Heirs of the King

by greenleaf-in-bloom

A six-book series, not chaptered. BOOKS ONE THROUGH FOUR COMPLETE! From after the WR. In Gondor, there has been relative peace for some time, but a shadow has been rising in the North, and in Gondor, it seems the King's family must act.

3. Book Two: Heirs of the King

Prologue

Heirs of the King

The October moon was swinging high above the horizon, yet still it was orange. The city of Edoras, where the King Eomer dwelled, was not completely quiet. The guards at the gate muttered only occasionally to each other, and every sixty minutes the call would ring out from the tower on the north side of the city. An elf approached the city slowly, limping on his left foot, and heard the loud cry, 'Eleven o'clock and all is well!'

The elf smiled. All is well, he agreed silently, for me. His was a bone- chilling smile of a killer, and it creeped into the chips of brown in his eyes. An icy sapphire would have fit his face better, a breathfreezing blue, pale to match his worn robes. Once, he knew it was obvious, they had been fine and rich, but now they were weatherstained and ragged. The leather band sometimes worn by a warrior or a wise man made a mark on his forehead, pulling back unnaturally dark, grimy hair.

His boots, heavy from steel toes, made a clunk in the dirt that was uncommon, almost unheard of for elves. The limp was painfully obvious, but it hardly bothered him any longer. It was his shoulder that pained him, the gash wound given to him by a traitor. He remembered in a reddish haze; the sword swinging down heavily onto his shoulder, and his cry of amazement and pain, and his flight when he had made his move. It hurt him to think of his retreat almost as much as the shoulder. He was not a man to give in.

Aloud, he muttered the same thing he had thought for the last months. 'I almost had him. The fools, another instant and he would have been dead! I hate him, and they stopped me from exacting my revenge. They must pay, pay for what they have done to me.' The slash on his shoulder agreed, fiery and fierce. His face remained cold and impassive.

His black-gloved hand hit the huge doors heavily. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. A yell came from within. 'Who is it?' a voice called harshly. 'No entrances after nightfall!'

'It is urgent that I see the King,' he proclaimed firmly. 'Please, I am injured -' Even if his leg did not hurt. '- and I was attacked. I have news he must hear.'

'Your name?'

'I am Malgalad.' This was not planned, but a spur-of-the-moment name...it sounded believable.

'We must ask our superior.'

'Please hurry.' He tried to make his calm voice sound urgent. 'Please, I need treatment.'

There was a long silence, and his injured leg went numb. Then out of the darkness he heard, 'All right, stranger, move back.' He did so, and the doors swung slowly open. Three guards stood before the door, seven were cranking it open with a large wheel. 'Enter.'

He did so, letting the limp show. 'Please, could I be shown to a place of healing? I was attacked by bandits on my way here, a few hours ago, but could not take time to deal with it properly.' His eyes were softened; more like onyx than diamond.

'Certainly.' The man who appeared to be in the lead motioned for one of the men to take him, a taller quiet-looking man. 'That way,' the lead man said, and the doors crashed shut. The men at the wheel, sweating, sighed and wrung out their hands. 'But I must tell you this is very much against protocol. I do not know whether you will gain an audience with the King.'

'Does the King have an advisor?'

'No; he sorely needs one, but denies it,' the tall man leading him said. 'You are surely not an advisor?'

'Of sorts, I am, but I have not come for that.'

'Ah well. Here we are...there. I do not know if anyone is still there, or if we will have to go and get them...how bad is your injury?'

Slowly, 'Malgalad' drew up the corner of his robe. The inner part was stained a cherry-red, and the strip of cloth around it was coming off. The other man's jaw dropped and he hissed.

'How do you walk on that, man?' he asked incredulously.

'My message could not wait until next afternoon. I have news of an attack, possibly - orcs gathering, they were near Minas Tirith and began marching this way. I made it ahead of them. Minas Tirith could not deal with them all. I think they are coming here, and they are almost three days behind me.'

The man looked ready to faint. Without prompting, the door opened and a woman motioned them in. 'What is the matter?' she asked briskly.

'My leg. I was attacked outside the city. I am a stranger.'

'Aye, I see that. Is it bad?'

'Yes.' His voice was cool, but he forced a note of pain into it. 'A knife- cut. It is deep and poorly cared for.' How he had gotten it may have been the truth, but he didn't care; it had helped him into the city, and being who and what he was, it did not bother him. He could have healed it himself if he needed to.

'All right then, sit down here.' There was a dark table in the center of the small room; he settled onto it and feigned a wince. The woman carefully uncovered the wound and let her breath out in a hiss. ''Tis not looking good. I don't know how ye can walk on it.'

He said nothing, but the woman looked suspicious, almost. Uncertain. 'I've not seen the likes of this for a good time. I'll have to poultice it, and it'll hurt like something wicked, but it could get infected elsewise. I'm afraid we don't have the skill Men have been reputed for, everyone hearing of the King Elessar in Gondor. I've heard his skill is greater than we've seen since his line was broken all those long years ago. Centuries.' As she spoke she took some jars off the shelves on one wall.

'So where are ye from?' Her tone was genuinely curious. 'What brings you to these parts?'

'I'm a refugee from the north, driven out by Galadon's men. I've come with an urgent message for the King Eomer.'

A sour look came across the woman's face as he mentioned the name Galadon. 'Ah, 'tis a hard life. That Galadon making mischeif? I heard rumor from Minas Tirith that the King's grandson had rescued some prisoners from him, including the princess of Methnan, and I say good for him. Nice boy, that Celebros, and good riddance to Galadon...we heard all about Celebros' rescue, o' course, when she took to Elessar's son Eldarion. Do ye know anything about that?'

'I heard of it,' he said carefully.

'Do ye know anyone taken by that scoundrel, that filth?'

'Yes, my brothers. Not taken, though.'

'Oh, my. He didn't -'

'That is what we think.' The guard, standing silent by the door, stared hard at him. A twinge came from the elf's leg, and he winced, only part sincere. It did hurt a bit. He was not as used to pain, not like that, but it reminded him of the shoulder, and he winced again. The woman sighed, and began wrapping his leg tightly with a soft but tough cloth.

'Now,' she said, 'Ye'll need to be careful with this one. It won't be able to do hard work for a time -'

'Of course not...thank you very much.'

'I hope you've brought the good King some good news about Galadon,' she said quietly, and the guard motioned him out.

So that was how the people thought of him. A scoundrel and a mischeif- maker...he would show them mischeif-maker, before he was done. A small smile, concealed and almost gloating, found its way onto his face.

And he had learned, too. That boy, he was the King of Gondor's grandson. Young as he was, the boy fought well, a worthy opponent, though of course easy to corner...his weakness lay there, in the rapt attention he paid to the forms. It did not come naturally to him, then. He was unaware of what else was going on around him, and that was an advantage.

His own young cousin, the girl, had naturally told him of the escape from the Galadil. They would search for him, then, and try to kidnap him again, and take him to be executed as they did with all the escapees. The traitors like Cundariel's friend Gwalas Windleaf...all of this could be used to his advantage. He did not easily forget such things.

His chain of thought was suddenly broken by the guard's quiet voice. 'I am not permitted to let you disturb the King at this time. You must wait until dawn.'

'You do not understand.' Feigned distress came automatically. 'I must see him. I must!'

'The King is sleeping. No one will wake him; this is as good as law here, in Edoras. Anyone to awake him would surely be met with his wrath, and since he became king with the passing of the late esteemed King Theoden, his temper has been bad. He will take advice from no one but the King Elessar and the captain of the guards, Hara son of Hama, and even they are ignored some-times. No one will dare awake him. You must wait, just a few hours. You will be provided with a room; you can rest for the three hours to dawn.'

'There is no getting around this, I suppose. Very well. But could the King be informed immediately when he wakes that I must speak with him?'

'Does he know you?'

'No, I have never been here since the days of King Theoden, and then I did not meet him, I merely passed through.'

'What should he be told then, sir?'

'Tell him what you wish. A stranger has arrived in town with urgent news for him, and must speak with him immediately.'

+++++

The King Eomer stared over his steepled fingers at the stranger sitting calmly before him. 'And you say they may attack us?'

'I am saying they will, my lord.'

'You are certain of this.' It was not a question.

'I am.' The man's hand spasmed suddenly and he touched his shoulder.

'Is there something wrong?' Genuine concern painted the King's voice. Strange concern. Too much. Galadon, Malgalad, had to conceal the smile at this. The King still had his own conci-ousness, for now at least, and a smile would make him suspicious.'

'An old wound, my lord. It was never properly treated, and it pains me still.'

'I see.'

'I have heard, my lord, that you have no advisors, yet I beg you to find one. In this time, when a crisis may be imminent, you need someone solely for that purpose, if I may be so bold as to say so. Someone with a skilled tongue, and who is wise about the ways of the world, who has seen it, but is not too old; someone who will be with you to the ends of your days.'

'Someone with a skilled tongue...' A strange look came across Eomer's face, almost confused, and his eyes flickered up to meet the stranger's. 'Like you.'

'Oh, my lord, I am afraid I have other things to attend to.' Eomer didn't notice the smile on the man's face, so intent was he on the eyes. But even when the triumph reached the man's eyes it was unnoticed.

'Would you have me beg you? 'Twould be most distressing to my men, but I will. There is no one else I can think of; I trust few people in this day. Please, I do need an advisor, already you have given me the kind of advice that I need.'

Triumph.

3 December, 58 FA

The knock came again on Celebros' door, more urgent. He sighed resignedly. Another servant, no doubt. It was tiresome, to have them bothering him day and night. He pushed himself out of the chair, marked his book, and walked over to the door. It creaked as he opened it, peering out. It was not, in fact, a servant there, but Gwalas, looking very excited. He rarely came into this part of Minas Tirith, being busy with matters in the Outer City. 'Eldarion and Aeargil's child has been born. A son. Eldarion asked me to tell you, and the King and Queen. They are in the second wing, if you want to see them.' He hurried on around the corner. Celebros went quickly back into the room, donned his better shirt and a pair of boots, and hurried over to the second wing. It was down three levels and to the right that he finally found the correct room. Aeargil was not there, but sleeping in another room, but Eldarion was. A small bundle of blankets was in his arms. Celebros hurried over and Eldarion looked up. His face was lit in a huge smile. 'Celebros!' he said warmly. 'I was hoping you would come.' Celebros nodded in return and looked at the tiny baby in Eldarion's arms. 'A son?' he asked. 'Yes. The doctors said he was a bit smaller than was usual, but there doesn't appear to be anything else wrong with him, does there?' He grinned at the child, who was making small gurgling sound and squirming slightly. 'No. Have you and Aeargil decided what to name him yet?' 'Meneldil,' Eldarion said, looking up from his son, who was apparently trying to grab hold of his father's hair. 'As active a child as we could hope for, too. Ah!' Meneldil had finally succeeded in pulling Eldarion's long hair. 'Strong, too,' he said with a laugh. Celebros stayed for a while longer. After he had been there about five minutes, King Elessar and Queen Arwen Evenstar arrived. The Queen was very glad indeed to have a second grandchild. 'The first is getting too grown,' she said with an almost mischevous smile at Celebros. 'What are you naming him?' 'Meneldil. After Anarion's son, you know, Mother.' 'It fits him.' The King spoke to Eldarion for a time while Arwen held the child. Eldarion's smile faded for a moment, then he resumed his grin. 'Very well,' Celebros heard him say. 'What is to be done?' 'Cundariel and Tasarian have returned from Eryn Lasgalen. I believe I can arrange for them to be among the guide. I will be at ease. Eldarion, you seem to underestimate...' The words faded, and Celebros, although interested, turned his attention back to Meneldil, who now had a hold on the Queen's long dark hair.

+++++

Later that day, the King Elessar himself came to see Celebros, and it was then that the young man understood what he had overheard. 'I have received a message,' he began, 'that alerted me that another enemy is on the move. There is some evil at work, and I think -' He broke off, searching for the right words. At last he said: 'I have been informed that there is something within the City, a spy or an assasin. My connections have informed me that something is after you; a minion of Galadon perhaps. I am going to send you to Imladris, to Rivendell. Elladan and Elrohir are returning there soon. They will go with you, and several others. I am not sure precisely whom or how many others will accompany you, but I believe that the sooner you go, the better. It will be a very long journey. I believe it would be safe to say that you should leave within the week. I would send you to Ithilien, or someplace nearer, but before long there would be the same problem, and I do not have as many sources there.' He paused, and through his strong mask, worry and fear broke through and flitted across his face. He pushed them away. Celebros thought, If he is afraid for me, then I should be terrified. And in a certain sense he was. But he was also filled with a determined resignation, and a sudden excitement. He had never been to Imladris before, and had aleays wished to. Now, at last, he would see it...

12 December, 58 FA

It was the third night since the company guarding Celebros had left the City. They had traveled hard, and far, and the horses were somewhat antsy. Celebros glanced around the fireside. There were more here than he was used to traveling with, as the most he had been with in the past year was six, and then only for three days. There were eight people crowded around the small fire now. It was cold, being the twelfth day of December. All of them were wearing the heavy winter clothing given to them by the King, and even the Elves seemed to be shivering. There was a light powdery snow on the ground, and the horses were stamping. It had been almost impossibly hard to light a fire, with the temperature and the wind. It never got this cold in these parts. Some force was at work, something unknown. Tasarian and Cundariel were on either side of Celebros. Tasarian was engaged in a conversation with Gwalas, who was crouched next to him, and by Cundairel Elladan and Elrohir were speaking quietly to each other in Sindarin, with her occasionally putting something in. Pernathos, a Guard, was listening to Snaga, who was telling him about some adventure or another. The little orc had had a great deal of them since he had befriended the King. Celebros alone was silent, staring into the fire. There was something that was bothering him, but he did not voice it to any of the others. The fact was that he didn't know quite why it worried him. A sudden, sharp laugh brought him out of his reverie. Snaga's tale had apparently amused Pernathos, Celebros noted dryly. Elladan and Elrohir suddenly stood up, and the others quieted. 'We should rest,' Elladan said. 'We will be traveling far tomorrow, and fast. Who will take first watch?' 'I can,' Pernathos said musingly. 'I have not, yet. Who will be second?' 'I will, I think.' Gwalas looked around. 'Third?' 'Third,' Tasarian said quietly. 'I will take fourth.' Cundariel glanced at her younger brother with a hint of a smile. 'Will there be a fifth, tonight, Elladan?' 'No, I think not. We shall not need it.' Celebros soon fell asleep, weighing matters on his mind uneasily.

13 December, 58 FA

'We make for the Gap of Rohan,' Elrohir said, looking around to make sure everyone was listening, 'then head up on the west side of the Misty Mountains. The east side is too dangerous. I have heard tell that spies and other folk are gathering there.' 'We may reach Imladris by the beginning of February, but no sooner,' Gwalas said slowly. 'It will likely take two and one-half weeks just to reach the Gap.' 'Three weeks, about, if we keep on like this,' Elladan informed them. 'If, that is, we ride from about this time in the morning until slightly before sunset, with reasonable breaks. Let us ride, now.' With a groan, Celebros mounted his horse. It was not Halbarad, his usual, but a grey one, Silverstream. He was reliable and steady, but not as used to riding hard. With a sigh, he thought of the weeks ahead. By the time they reached Imladris, he would be too saddle-sore to ride for a year to come. By the time they rode off, the sun was already fully above the horizon, and the thin mist was burning off. By the time they stopped at night, the sun was hovering over the skyline. It had been a good day, and was very much like those that were to come for days yet.

20 December, 58 FA

'We are ahead of schedule,' Elladan announced at dinner one night. 'We will reach the Gap of Rohan in roughly nine days now. That is well.' Celebros, hardly listening, huddled closer ot the fire. It was still well into December, and would stay cold for a time yet, but it had stopped snowing, and the winter sun shone. It was cheerier than clouds, but seemed almost a mockery in this cold. Celebros shivered. Not only was he hungry, tired, cold, and saddlesore, but there was not much to do. He would pace about the campsite, or tell stories, until it was time to sleep. There were heavy blanketrolls, although they were sometimes wet from snow, but no shelter save the trees. Nothing had happened in quite a long time. They had met no danger, luckily, but there was also seemingly nothing else. It sometimes appeared that they were the only ones alive. They had seen few birds, for they had all migrated away, and now even the sight of a snow hare or some such winter creature was rare. Another shiver ran through him. It was not snowier and... more deserted than he would have liked. He wondered if it had anything to do with Galadon, and shivered again, remembering the hazy awfullness of the days surrounding the escape from Mount Gundabad. Could it be Galadon? Had he that much power? No, of course not. He may be powerful, the young man thought, shivering again and remembering the time he had dueled with the Elf, but he surely cannot control the weather. He stood up and paced around the clear space where they had stopped once, then lay down and tried to sleep. The others were still up, around the fire and talking softly. For once, Elladan and Elrohir were not speaking in their native language. Slowly, Celebros drifted into uneasy sleep, hardly awake, yet aware that someone from around the fire was watching him.

21 December, 58 FA

Eldarion glanced out over the City again. He would rather have been with Meneldil, but his small son was resting, and Aeargil was tired. The Tower of Ecthelion was tall, and gave him a view of the entire City. The sun was high in the sky, and the breeze was cold. He wrapped his cloak about himself and descended back to his family's chambers where Aeargil and Meneldil were. His wife was probably done resting by now: he had been on top of the Tower since morning. As he neared his chambers, though, he could tell something was amiss. The servants rushing back and forth seemed distressed. He stopped one of the maids and asked her what was going on. 'The baby,' she whispered, and broke away, hurrying the opposite direction. Eldarion's heart froze when he heard these words, and he pushed his way through the corridor to his rooms, banging open the door. One of the maids was sitting in a chair next to Aeargil. His breath caught as he saw her. She was crying, sobbing, and nothing the maid was saying could comfort her. Eldarion hurried over, catching the maid's shoulder. She turned and looked at him, anxiety painted over her face. Before she could open her mouth, he gently drew her up out of the chair. 'My son,' he whispered hoarsely. 'The lady woke up from her sleep,' the trembling woman told him, 'and went to check on the baby, and found he was not breathing. Please, my lord, is there anything to be done? She will not speak to me, or to anyone, and the entire Inner City is distressed at this. I do not know what to do!' 'Thank you very much,' he whispered, 'and you may go. I will - I shall do what I - what I can.' The maid hurried out of the room. Aeargil looked up at him, her face red and tearstained. 'I just woke up,' she sobbed, 'and he wasn't -' A lump rose in Eldarion's throat, and he closed his eyes. After a moment Aeargil went on. 'Meneldil - they took his - they - Tell me this is a dream! Now! It isn't real. My son, my baby - Please, Eldarion! Please -' Eldarion took a breath, and another, trying to steady himself. His head reeled, he wanted to fall to the ground, to scream, Yes, it's a dream, Elbereth, let me wake up! He pulled himself over to where Aeargil sat, her head in her hands, shaking harder than he would have believed imaginable, and he sat down next to her. She looked up again at him. He took her hand, fighting back the wave that was threatening to envelope him. She raised a trembling hand and touched his cheek, tracing the path of the single tear that had just run across it. 'It's real, isn't it?' she whispered, closing her eyes and biting her lip. She rested her beautiful head against his chest. He stroked her hair, and kissed her forehead. They sat together for a long time, an hour, a thousand hours. Finally she stopped shaking. Eldarion looked down through his own blurred eyes and saw that she was asleep. He sighed heavily. Meneldil... He shook his head fiercely. He would not think of that now. That was for later. A hesitant knock came on the door. 'Come in,' he said thickly. The door opened slowly. The hallway was all but empty now, but the person who stood at the door was both the first and the last person he wanted to see: his father. He brushed his sleeve over his eyes and looked up again. The King's face was grave and sad. 'Can I...' he said slowly. Eldarion nodded, standing up carefully, so as not to wake Aeargil. 'I only heard about ten minutes ago,' his father said softly. 'I was taking care of a situation in the Outer City.' Eldarion looked down and nodded. He did not want his father to see his eyes, although he knew that was foolishness. 'Eldarion,' King Elessar said quietly. He looked up again slowly into his father's sympathetic eyes. 'You don't have to hide,' his father said after a long pause. There was an almost hurt look on his face. 'Come here.' There was a moment's hesitation. Eldarion looked almost pleadingly into his father's eyes, as if asking him to withdraw his request, but all that happened was that the hurt look in the King's eyes spread over his whole face. Eldarion shut his eyes breifly once more, then walked over to his father. The King put his hands on his son's shoulders. 'Your mother wants to talk to you later, Eldarion. You and Aeargil both, I believe. I would like to talk with you more, too, but it will have to wait. I have to find some way to calm the people. They are all very distressed. I saw people in the streets...This has affected everyone. I must go. If you want to talk later...I don't know. I have never been faced with this kind of situation before.' The King slowly drew away from his son, released his shoulders, and hurried out of the room.

28 December, 58 FA

Celebros glanced at Elrohir. Elladan had gone out to see how far they were from the Gap, and the Elf was silent, apparently deep in thought. 'Will we reach the Gap tomorrow, do you think?' he asked awkwardly. 'Yes, it is likely.' Elrohir did not look up, and his voice was soft and slow. Celebros did not try to talk to them any more. After around an hour, Elladan hurried back. His footwear, light and thick, was covered in a heavy snow, that evidently was deeper than that which was in this site. 'We will reach the Gap around midday tomorrow, I think,' he said, apparently quite excited. 'It will be around three or four weeks before we reach Imladris. Sleep, now! We shall start early tomorrow. As he had seldom done since leaving Minas Tirith, Celebros slept easy and deep that night.

29 December, 58 FA

Celebros awoke with a groan, keeping his eyes shut. He could feel the deep snow beneath him; it must have snowed, and they must have moved him. There was movement around him. Why hadn't they woken him up? He opened his eyes, and they slowly widened. He was no longer in the site. His hands were tied firmly, and the figures moving around him were definitely not his companions. One of them turned, and Celebros' eyes widened. They were Elves. Immediately everything clicked into place. The Galadil. He had been taken again. A growl rose in his throat, and a sudden blossom of fear. 'He's awake,' the Elf grunted to another. Three of them turned, and cold eyes glared at him. With a grimace, Celebros remebered that the last time he had been captured, they had referred to him as 'it'. 'He' was a definate improvement, he thought wildly. It was quite cold. He realized he was not wearing his heavy cloak any longer, or any of his other winter wear. He was lying on a thin blanket. He shivered, and stifled a groan, his teeth clenched. The ropes on his arms were cutting into his wrists. 'He's harmless,' one of them smirked. 'That's what we said last time, and it got Aearos a bruised face and lost us Gwalas. And Brethil nearly killed the guards. Don't underestimate these ones. They can be dangerous, eh, little one?' Celebros realized that the Elf was asking him for an answer. Afraid, he did not reply. 'Eh? You can speak, don't pretend you can't. We followed your group for two days. I cannot believe the company our folk will endure! An orc, and men! Filthy!' The Elf spat on the ground in disgust. 'Now answer me, little one,' he said softly, advancing on Celebros. 'Are your folk dangerous?' With another groan, unsure what to do but paralyzed with fear, the young man shrugged slowly. 'Some,' he croaked, throat dry. 'See how dangerous you will be after we have had our way with you!' the Elf growled, and kicked him, hard, in the stomach. Seemingly satisfied, he turned and walked away. The others followed without a word, leaving Celebros on the ground.

+++++

'Where is he?' Gwalas cried, slumped against a tree, worry etched in every line of his face. 'He would not leave. He knows better. His pack is still here! Where has he gone, or been taken?' Elladan stopped pacing. Looking up, he glanced around as if afraid someone else might have disappeared. 'I see the footprints,' he said quietly, 'of two Elves. Light footprints, and quick, bearing some weight. And the horses, of course: they took all of them. But they are not good trackers.' Gwalas flinched as if he had been slapped, and squeezed his eyes shut, despair on his face. 'The Galadil,' he murmered. 'But they never come this far south.' 'Apparently they do,' Tasarian said quietly, his head bowed in thought. 'Why? Surely they would not come this much out of their way to capture a single boy who had escaped them.' Cundariel sounded definitely strained. Gwalas was shaking his head. 'You do not know their way, Cundariel,' he said sadly. 'I did not think of it. Once they have a being escape, although it seldom happens, they will hunt him to the end of the world. They never let anyone go. And it likely injured Brethil's pride, which was that no prisoner under his eye had ever escaped. In addition to the fact that it lost them me. If I may say so, I was a fairly valuable asset, with tracking and healing. Few of them are skilled in these arts.' 'Can you track them, then?' Pernathos asked quietly. 'Can you find the boy? I would not lose him. He is young, and when King Elessar dies - no time soon, I hope! - and Prince Eldarion is crowned, he will be needed in the Kingdom. He is to be an advisor of sorts, I have heard. Intelligence is the key. He has the wisdom and insight that many have never seen in one so young.' 'I would not lose the King's faith in us,' Snaga grunted firmly. 'Can they be tracked?' 'I do not think so,' Elladan said dispiritedly. 'They are not very good trackers, but they are not easy to track; they are skilled at least in hiding their steps. I think what we should do is send some to attempt to follow and some to the City. I will try to follow, I think, and Elrohir and Cundairel and Tasarian. The rest of you should return to the City and inform King Elessar and Prince Eldarion what has happened. They will better decide what to do. Is this agreed?' There was a chorus of 'yes', and they hurried to pack.

+++++

'Get up!' Celebros opened his eyes again. Even that movement was painful. They were apparently not worried about invoking wrath any longer. He tried to rise, but was unsteady and unable to push himself up with is hands tied. He stumbled and fell onto his face with a cry. Rough hands seized his arms, making him cry out again, and he was hauled to his feet. He tripped and almost fell again, but one hand grabbed his arm, and with a wrench stopped the fall. He felt the bonds being cut, and barely contained a sigh of relief. The ropes fell from his wrists. He shivered with a flinch. The wind was hard and sharp, and it was bitter cold. One of the Elves gripped the back of his neck. 'Turn around,' said a rough voice. Shivering, the terrified young man did as he was told. It was impossible to see the face of the Elf that was before him, for it was wrapped tight to prevent injury from the cold. 'You will obey well, and you will not be punished more than we feel necessary,' he said in a cold voice, stroking his belt knife leisurely, as if it was something he used frequently. Celebros swallowed. 'What is your name, boy?' 'Cele - Celebros,' he chattered. 'Interesting. Where do you come from?' There was a pause as the younger speaker swallowed nervously. 'Minas Tirith,' he whispered. The Elf looked coldly at him. 'Filthy city. Not enough life, and that which there is is that of Men.' Celebros was about to protest that the White City had more people than they could count when he thought better of it. 'Are you noble, or such?' 'No,' he invented. 'My parents are poor, and we are not of a house.' 'Yet you have an escort of seven others to lead you to Imladris?' The Elf backhanded Celebros, sending him sprawling on the ground. 'The truth.' 'My grandfather is King Elessar Telcontar,' Celebros said through clenched teeth, breathing fast. The ice was hard, and jagged, and a small stream of blood crept down his cheek as he pushed himself up. 'Telcontar,' the Elf mused. He had opened his mouth to ask another question when another Elf shouted from behind him, 'Lord Eldir! We must hurry on!' Eldir gave Celebros a cold look. 'Later,' he said shortly. He commanded several of his Elves to watch the boy and then went off to the front. They traveled north.

30 December, 58 FA

When Celebros was painfully aroused, he found that he had nearly been buried by a new layer of freshly-fallen snow. It was very cold, and his clothing was wet. They had at least wrapped him in a blanket, to prevent him from freezing to death, but obviously meant to keep him on the edge. It was Eldir who woke him, using the method Celebros had half-expected - a quick, hard kick in the ribs. Once again, however, he was not able to rise, and once again he was pulled to his feet roughly. 'Now,' Eldir snarled, 'I will continue where we left off.' He pulled back his hand again and punched the boy, hard, making him fly through the air and skid on the ground, moaning. 'Truth is a major factor, you see,' the Elf said with a smile that was anything but pleasant, 'and you will suffer worse than that if you do not give it to me. Make me believe it. Where were you going, and who were the members of your company?' 'Going to Imladris. I was with...' He paused, and Eldir's eyes narrowed. Hastily he finished, 'with Cundariel of the North and her brother Tasarian, Pernathos, a Guard of the City, Snaga, a renegade orc who renounced the ways of his people, the sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, and Gwalas Windleaf, a companion we met on our travels.' He held his breath. When Gwalas' name was mentioned, Eldir's eyes widened and an expression of digust and fury flickered across his smooth face. 'Gwalas,' he hissed softly. 'Do not try to hide him from us, child. He will be punished adequately by the captains,' he muttered suddenly, as if it was a reminder. 'And the sons of Elrond. These we know. The others, they are not as, let us say, important?' 'They are very important. They are the King's friends, messangers, and advisors, and our kingdom would sorely miss them.' 'They would be missed.' He sighed resignedly, and then thought a moment. 'What about you?' He sounded almost eager. 'You are important too?' 'I told you - yes, I am the King's grandson.' 'Yes...' The Elf seemed distracted, as if trying to make up his mind about something. Eldir frowned, looking down at the ground. Celebros opened his mouth to say something and found himself suddenly on his back. The Elf had not hit him this time, merely swept his legs out from under him. 'Speak when you're spoken to, child. Not before, and not while, but directly after.' There was a silence. 'I said directly after, didn't you hear? Do you have that fixed in mind?' A vicious kick hit Celebros' side. 'Do you have that? Absolutely clear, child?' He waited for the blow, but it did not come. He opened his eyes. 'Yes.' It was a pitiful whisper. 'You see?' Eldir's voice was soft. 'I can be reasonable. I do not want to kill you yet. You may be useful. Would you like some food?' Yet, Celebros thought. May be. 'Yes,' he said quickly. He had not noticed how hungry he was until food had been mentioned. Some kind of meat, that was certain, but he did not think he wanted to know what kind.

31 December, 58 FA

Celebros was shaking. It was freezing cold. The bitter wind cut through his ragged clothes and ruffled his hair. They had been moving fast, against the wind, and his eyes were stinging and watering. Breathing was hard, in this cold. One of them came up to him again, forcing a liquid into his mouth, making him swallow. The one who did this then held his neck until he had choked it down. The fingers found his pulse. A face loomed nearer to his. The Elf turned, his hands still on the boy's neck, to another. 'He's weakening,' he said, and looked back at the boy. Tired. Maybe he could just sleep. Eldir was nowhere near. He would not know. And suddenly he thought perhaps the hard ice would be comfortable. Nice and soft, like his bed in Minas Tirith. Maybe if he slept, he would dream of the City. He felt he fingers release his neck, and he crumpled to the ice. His eyes closed. His small form shivered even in sleep.

+++++

Eldir could not remember the name of the Elf who turned to face him after the Man fell asleep. It was one of the few who he knew he could trust. 'The Man shows remarkable resistance,' the other Elf said. 'He is stronger than the last one. I am almost surprised he still speaks to us, with the treatment you have given him. I do not question you, but I do not see the need to be so hard on him; he is young and more harmless than the others believe. We do not want to incur the wrath of Gondor and Thranduil both, much less at the same time. Should I cover him? Myself, I would think it would be wise. He is no use to us dead, and more trouble injured.' Eldir was silent for a moment. What the Elf said made sense, yet something held him back. 'Yes. Your words are sensible. Cover him.'

+++++

Cundariel stumbled again and sat down heavily against the drift of snow. 'It is useless,' she muttered. Elrohir stopped, turned and came back to where she was with less difficulty, and sat down beside her. He looked at her once, then away, waiting for her to say something more. 'We've been following two days now,' she went on bitterly. 'We have found no trace of them, because the snow is drifting. For all we know, they could have turned aside after the first few hours. We could be following shadows.' Elrohir looked at her again. 'We are not following shadows,' he said, 'we are following Celebros Telcontar and his kidnappers.' 'How do we know we are following them? The snow is deep enough, they could have already...done just about anything to him. It is not right! He may be of age according to the Men's customs, but he is still too young. I do not see why they are so concerned about taking him.' 'They are the Galadil,' Elrohir said simply. He searched her face quickly. 'We know we are following them because they would not go back to Eryn Lasgalen. They will follow this path, and stay to it until they achieve their purpose.' 'What you mean is, until either they kill the boy or they get a ransom or piece of information from him.' 'They will not kill the boy outright unless they discover we are close and cannot escape.' 'And aren't we trying to get close?' 'We are trying to get close without them discovering it. And even then I do not think they will kill him. I believe they will hold him until they get something out of him or us. We should continue now, Cundariel. They are getting farther away while we wait.'

1 January, 59 FA

Celebros took another painful breath and opened his eyes. The Elves were moving around the site, but it still seemed to be early. They had wrapped him in some sort of thick blanket, but it was still very cold. One of them looked his way, turned, and shouted something to one of the other Elves, presumably Eldir, but the words were lost in the roar of the wind. Yet again, snow had collected around him while he slept. He had had time to clear a bit of it away when Eldir came over. 'We have made a discovery, boy,' he said softly. 'Some of those from your escort are following us. Several Elves, and none of them Gwalas. A pity. Your friends?' 'I suppose they are.' 'You suppose? Well, well. I am going to ask you a few more questions, and you will answer truthfully. Won't you?' Celebros swallowed and nodded. 'Good,' the Elf laughed. 'You see how easily Men are quashed? Meek beings, your folk, and quite weak too. Now, first of all, I would like you to describe to me the King's family.' This puzzled Celebros, but he told the truth without questioning. 'King Elessar Telcontar married Arwen Evenstar, daughter of Elrond. Their first child was Eldarion. He quite recently married Aeargil daughter of Tarmamethnan, and they very recently had a son Meneldil. King Elessar's second child was a daughter Malgil. Malgil married a Man Caladin, and I am their only child. The King also has two other young daughters, the youngest of which only came of age ten years ago. Neither of them are married.' 'This Eldarion,' Eldir said shrewdly, 'what does he look like?' 'He is tall by our standards, with long brown hair and blue eyes, and a swordsmaster.' 'Who was in your escort, and what do they look like?' 'Cundariel of the North, with long golden hair and bluegrey eyes, an excellent archer,' Celebros said slowly, trying to picture her. He could not do it. 'Her younger brother Tasarian, with shoulder-length blonde hair that has several brown streaks. He has grey eyes. Thirty-one years ago he was kidnapped, and only in the past few years escaped. Snaga, a very small, nimble orc with yellow-green eyes. Pernathos, a guard of the City. He has short brown hair and green eyes, and is a good swordsman.' 'Short hair like yours?' 'Yes.' 'Who else?' 'There were Elladan and Elrohir, twins, the sons of Elrond. They -' 'I know what Elladan and Elrohir look like,' Eldir said dismissively, waving his hand. 'And who else?' 'Gwalas -' 'Of course, I had almost forgotten. I know what Gwalas looks like, child. He was a companion of mine for many years. Cundariel, she is a good friend of yours?' 'Yes.' 'How well do you know each other? I mean to say, how long?' 'I met her in...some time in March in the year 57.' 'Almost two years, then. You say you travel with an orc? They are disgusting. Foul, and evil.' 'Snaga deserted. He left his band of orcs and renounced their ways.' 'I have never heard of this happening before. Very well, child, you have answered all my questions so far truthfully, to my knowledge. Now I will tell you this. I have the ability and forces right now to go and kill all of your friends. The reason I do not is because currently they are no threat to us, and because you are being helpful. I do not think you would be if we killed them, and I could not stop you from finding out. If you defy me, boy, I can kill not only them, but likely your precious Eldarion, and your parents, and this Aeargil and her son. They cannot stay in Minas Tirith forever, you know. If you defy me, you will lose them.' Celebros shivered under Eldir's glare. After a moment the Elf spoke again. 'But you have obeyed well, for the present, and been very useful. For this you shall be rewarded.' He called another Elf over, and this one gave Celebros some food. 'I can be reasonable, child. Listen, and hope that your friends do not annoy me, and they will be safe. I am afraid I cannot necessarily say the same for you.' There was a wicked smile on Eldir's face as he walked away. The food did not comfort the boy.

4 January, 59 FA

'We cannot continue much longer,' Elladan said quietly, 'and not much farther. We will have to go to Imladris and get more help.' Elrohir did not speak, just stood, staring numbly at his brother. His haunted expression made Tasarian edgy. They would have to go off the trail very soon, he knew. They were running out of food. His sister was sitting in the snow, oblivious of the cold. Her face was drawn and weary, and he knew she had not eaten or slept well for days. She glanced his way and saw that he was looking at her. Her expression was enough to tell him that she was trying to hide her emotions. He knew how much she cared for the boy; after all, he had saved her from the fortress of Galadon. Her, and him, and he sensed that it was as much that he had rescued him as that he had her. Shaking her head, a breif smile touched her face. Too forced. She pushed the hair from her face and turned away again. Elladan continued. 'We are short on food, and we are losing the trail. We need more supplies. We need speed. We cannot continue.' Tasarian nodded. Elladan glanced at him. Elrohir turned to his brother abruptly and said something in Sindarin. It was quiet enough that Tasarian could only catch one word. Wrong. Elladan replied, and Tasarian understood nothing of that, but it was fast. Elrohir looked agaitated, and turning away moved over, away from the others.

6 January, 59 FA

Eldir spoke softly to one of his guards, then turned to Celebros. 'We seem to be very near to my outpost,' he said quietly, with a very nasty grin, 'which is good for us both. You will not be outside any longer for a while, and I can have a proper talk with you.' The way he said talk unnerved Celebros. He hadn't already had a proper talk? His idea of a good talk seemed to be one in which he got a blow in and still got enough information to suit him. Celebros shook his head slowly, trying to clear it and doing just the opposite. Eldir's guard pulled him up by an arm and pushed him forward. 'Move,' the man snarled. Celebros shuffled forward, thinking about being inside once again. In out of the cold. Stifling a yawn, he looked up and saw, in the swirling snow around them, a two-story building. It was white, and silent; there was no one there. They filed into it slowly with Celebros and the guard last. The inside room was dark, and a bit warm. There were three doors leading out of it and a winding stairway leading into darkness. Someone began lighting lamps; Eldir moved toward Celebros. The guards slowly filtered out of the room and through the central door, shutting it tight behind them. Eldir watched them, and when the last was gone he turned to Celebros. 'Follow me,' he said, his voice commanding. It didn't even occur to the boy not to obey. He walked up the stairs, into the darkness. A lamp was lit, and Celebros saw the chamber they were in with a growing sense of anticipation. The door closed with a resounding thump, and Celebros looked across the room at Eldir. To his surprise, his gaze was steady and firm. In the center of the room was a long table with various restraints at the head and foot. Eldir was looking at him, and at something else. With an evil smirk, he motioned his captive forward. Slowly Celebros advanced and rested his hands on the table. Eldir crossed the room from the other side to the table and stood, his eyes narrowed a moment, studying Celebros' face carefully. Then he suddenly said, 'How old are you?' 'Seventeen.' Celebros' voice wavered slightly as he wondered what this room was for. On the other side of the table, right next to Eldir's hand, was a thin black rod. The top end was slightly larger than the bottom. Eldir smiled. 'Only seventeen? When will you be eighteen?' 'I don't know.' Eldir chuckled. 'You don't know?' 'I...I'm not sure. I don't know what the date today is.' Eldir smirked and closed his eyes, shaking his head in mock disapproval. 'Ah, well. It doesn't matter. Do you know how many Galadil there are, Celebros?' Taken aback a moment at the use of his name, all he could do was shake his head. 'Seven thousand four hundred and fifty, approximately,' he said. Celebros' eyes widened. It was a lie, a boast, it had to be. There couldn't be that many of them. 'How many do your people have? How many soldiers? We have all been wondering.' Taking a deep breath, Celebros opened his mouth. Then he realized what he was doing, shook his head, and closed it. 'Perhaps I will have to use this room after all,' Eldir mused, picking up the black rod unconcernedly. 'Let's try again. Who is allied with your city and how many do they have?' Celebros bit his lip, staring at the instrument and realizing how strong the restraints looked. Still, he knew he couldn't give away their alliance. He closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. 'Last chance, boy,' he heard, a whisper that was nearer to his ear. Eldir was right beside him when he opened his eyes. 'You can't hide it from me forever. I am stronger than you, and we both know it. But you do not accept it. What is the strength of your forces, combined with your allies? I mean steeds, men and Elves, weapons; everything. Abilities. Tactical officers. Your...grandfather. The intelligence of the fighters. Attack positions. Tell me how I may attack the City and win. Or I shall be resorted to using my resources.' There was still a hope, Celebros thought desperately, wasn't there, that he could hold it from Eldir, keep it away. That chance, however slim, had to be tested. If there was any hope for the City, it had to be tried. He clamped his mouth shut. Eldir sighed. 'Ah, well. The difficult way, then.' He didn't sound very concerned. Celebros turned his head ever so slightly to the left to look at him, and then felt a hand close around the back of his neck, the fingers finding his pulses and tightening on them, pushing up. His face was forced down, his cheek hitting the cold table's surface hard. He felt the fingers release his neck, and for a moment thought wildly that maybe - Then the hands roughly seized his wrists, quickly pulling them together and binding them in front of him. He was lifted onto the table and before he could do anything, he felt the restraints being fastened around his ankles...then his stomach...and his shoulders. The table beneath him was hard and unforgiving. He opened his eyes a fraction. Eldir was quickly fumbling with that black rod. He closed his eyes again, breathing hard, the pain in his chest returning. The cold end of the bar touched the side of his neck. Unnaturally cold. Puzzled he wondered what was going on - A searing pain shot through him. The end of the bar had gone from being unusually cold to being fiery hot, like a brand or a hot coal. Slowly but surely, it began to trace a path around the back of his neck. Celebros screamed. The agony was like nothing he had ever known. As instinct he felt himself fighting against the restraints. His head and feet were digging into the table, and his back was arched, straining against the restraints. The tip of the rod came away from his skin. Gasping for breath, his muscles gave out, weak and watery. His body relaxed against the restraints. His eyes were shut loosely. His lungs were burning in addition to his neck. His body trembled weakly, and the cuffs around his wrists seemed to tighten. 'Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?' Eldir's soft voice came drifting through the fog of pain. Celebros took a deep breath, and another, and Eldir allowed it patiently for a minute or two. Then he repeated the question. Celebros' jaw quivered as he took one breath after another. He thought of the questions, and the consequences. Eldarion...the King...the Queen...Cundariel and Tasarian... and Aeargil, and his parents, and Meneldil. He knew he could not give them away. Opening his eyes, shaking, he looked at Eldir, who was staring at his pale, frightened face, and very deliberately and slowly shook his head. Eldir clenched his teeth angrily, and Celebros closed his eyes and felt the cold touch of the rod against his neck again.

7 January, 59 FA

Celebros' body shuddered still. His neck was agony, and he still imagined he could feel the chilling tip of the black bar against it. It was morning, and he had only just woken up from tortured dreams of what was going to happen today. The hard stone beneath him did not bother him. He had not given in, which had greatly surprised Eldir, but still the Elf had persisted. Why hadn't he given in? Was it worth it? Suddenly he perceived the reality of what he had been thinking and his mind rejected the thought fiercely. Of course! His thoughts were frantic and furious with himself. The thought that it wasn't worth it was ludicrous. A tear ran down his cheek as he remembered the thought that had raced through his head as it had violently shaken back and forth when the fiery rod had touched it. He remembered the thoughts clear as day. They had been burned into his mind as his skin was burned. He couldn't give up on his friends, or Eldarion and the King and their families, for that would be the ruin of Men. He couldn't give in, or perhaps Eldir would have no more use for him and he would be killed. He couldn't give in or he would have nothing left to want to live for. What he had done was saved the City. He hadn't realized it at first, but he knew that if he kept the information to himself, then Eldir wouldn't dare to attack the City. The door opened, and an Elf stepped in. His eyes were merciless, and Celebros knew that this was one of the Elves that was a full supporter of Eldir. 'Come on,' the man growled. Standing up was painful, but somehow Celebros managed it, and he followed the man slowly, limping a bit and wincing with every movement. Eldir was in the center of the room; all the other Elves except the one that had led him out were in the room through the second door. The other Elf bowed and left. Eldir smiled; and Celebros shivered, thinking the smile far from friendly. 'How are you feeling today? Up to answering me yet?' Celebros' jaw tightened. He didn't answer, though Eldir's gaze was piercing and merciless. After a moment, the Elf's eyes narrowed and he grinned wickedly. 'No? Not ready yet? Will I be reduced to using my own methods, if the traditional ones do not work? I do not think that would be very easy on you. It generally isn't. The last one couldn't bear it.' 'Who was the last one?' Celebros' voice was quiet and hoarse. 'Now,' Eldir said, his eyes widening in amusement, 'why would you want to know that?' Celebros swallowed and stayed silent, and Eldir snorted. 'Men,' he murmured, turning his back slowly with a sigh. 'You are all the same. Weak, easily beaten down, but yet you will defend yourselves if there is a slight chance you might be blamed. Not hurt - blame is more of a concern. Do you care about death, Celebros son of Caladin? Do you care about the possibility, in your mind, that you will never see Eldarion or his son again? Do you enjoy that thought? I doubt you will fight me. Even if you will, it is always interesting to watch.' Celebros took a slow, shaky breath, and Eldir turned back to look at him, his hands behind his back. He raised his eyebrows. 'You are going to be difficult?' he asked quietly, although he clearly did not expect an answer. 'Very well.'

12 January, 59 FA

Gwalas squinted ahead again. 'How far away are these people? How many?' Pernathos asked, shaking the wet snow off his cloak. 'Two, and too close,' Gwalas said. 'Even if we wanted to get away, they have horses and we have none.' 'Yes,' Pernathos said softly. 'Snaga, you had better get behind us. If they are from Rohan, or Ithilien, or have not heard of you, they will not hesitate to kill any or all of us.' Snaga moved behind the other two. 'I would guess,' Gwalas said quietly, 'that since we have traveled fast, and for two weeks, we are roughly halfway to the City. That would mean we are nearing Mering Stream.' The two riders, who were cloaked and riding right next to each other, spotted them standing side by side, now in silence. One rode near to them, and when he was close dismounted; the other stayed behind. As the man drew nearer, they tried to get a glimpse of his face. When he was twelve paces away, he gave a gasp of surprise. 'Gwalas!' he shouted, hurrying forward. 'And Pernathos! Where are the others?' It was Eldarion. He pulled off his hood as he neared them. Snaga moved out from behind them. 'Following Celebros,' he said quietly. 'Celebros?' Eldarion said, puzzled. 'Celebros was kidnapped in the night, two weeks ago, near the Gap of Rohan, by the Galadil,' Gwalas said flatly. 'The others are following, and we were sent to the City with the news.' Eldarion gasped. 'How is Meneldil?' Gwalas added as an afterthought. Eldarion bit his lip and shut his eyes. 'And who is that with you?' The second figure was approaching. Eldarion's shoulder shook a moment. His eyes were glassy when he opened them. 'Meneldil's dead,' he said quietly. 'Aeargil and I are going to Methnan.' Gwalas' eyes grew large and sad, and his mouth hung open. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly, 'The King gave you leave?' 'No,' Eldarion said matter-of-factly. 'I didn't ask him. We just left. I didn't want to be stalled.' Gwalas' eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. Pernathos gaped. Snaga stood still, and made no move. 'Aeargil!' he called, turning around. 'Who is it?' The others recognized her sweet voice, but it was no longer the innocent, quiet stream of words. Instead it was the sad, wearied river that is but a trickle; lifeless, that has seen too much. She dismounted and walked over next to Eldarion. 'Gwalas, Pernathos, and Snaga. Celebros has been kidn-apped.' 'That is not well,' she said cooly, pulling back the hood of her cloak as Eldarion had done, revealing her sorrowful blue-green eyes. She turned to her husband. 'How far are we from Methnan?' she asked softly putting her hand on his shoulder. Eldarion very nearly gaped at her. 'Celebros has been kidnapped,' he repeated blankly. 'The King can take care of it,' she said, smiling sweetly. 'That could take weeks! Aeargil, the people who took him are abusive. He could be -' Aeargil looked innocently at him. 'Then if you leave,' she said softly, 'what shall I do? Shall I go on to Methnan alone, or back to your City? Or on with you?' Eldarion, looking affronted, pursed his lips and frowned thoughtfully. 'Where,' he asked Gwalas after a tense silence, 'was he taken?' 'Elladan thought they would take him along the Misty Mountains north, and into the Wild,' Gwalas offered uncertainly, 'but he said he would have to follow the tracks more.' Eldarion narrowed his eyes. He glanced at Aeargil, who was standing expectantly beside him, looking at him and the others. She slowly raised her hand and delicately touched his cheek. He looked down at her. 'I have to follow him, Aeargil,' he said imploringly. 'I have to.' 'You do not have to,' she said, her voice icy. 'You may feel it is your responsibility, but it is not. Others could do it. There are already others following.' 'They will soon give up, if they cannot find him,' Gwalas broke in. His voice had grown angry. 'Those who are here are the only ones left, if the others have failed. And all the horses were taken. Don't you care about him? He could be killed! He could die! Is his life that worthless to you?' The last were shouted, fury shining clearly through in his usually calm, peaceful face. There was a hush. Then Eldarion turned to look at her. 'Your disregard for his safety,' he said at last, 'is what caused me to make up my mind. I am following him, Aeargil.' The icy glare deepened. Gwalas turned to Eldarion. 'If the situation was not so serious,' he said, 'if it was not so desperate, I would never ask you to do this.' 'You never did ask,' Eldarion said, still looking at Aeargil. 'I said I would. I am going to follow him, I know that for certain. But some should still return to the City bearing the news.' 'I will go on,' Pernathos said firmly. 'And so shall I,' Snaga said after a pause. 'I would not be of much use, fighing against elves.' Eldarion sighed. Secretly, he had been hoping that he could arrange for someone to escort Aeargil to Methnan, but there was no hope of that, really. Still, there was one thing he could try. 'Aeargil, are you certain you want to go on to Methnan? There is more safety in the City.' 'I want to return to my people,' she said quietly, and perhaps a touch pleadingly. 'I want to tell my father of all that has happened. It has been over three years since I last gazed on the Tower of the Last Mist. The City is very beau-tiful, but it does not hold a candle to Methnan.' 'Could you not return to the City, and ask the King for an escort? It would be much safer, now that the Galadil are getting more alert and outright.' Aeargil's lips tightened, not wanting to lose the argument. 'Fine,' she said haughtily, and Eldarion let out his breath. 'But I will not linger. I suppose you must take the horses now. There are not enough for three, and you can make use of them. I do not like it, but it is sensible.' Eldarion's face was slightly brightened, but still most of it was sad and alert. Gwalas looked around. 'We might as well spend the night here,' he said slowly. 'Dusk is coming on.'

14 January, 59 FA

Celebros awoke, as always, with a small groan. Coming back to life and pain was not pleasant, although it alerted him that he was alive. He hurt, but he still had the key that Eldir needed, and he knew the Elf would not risk killing him. The back of his neck and his limbs and stomach ached from Eldir's merciless torture. There was a crunch behind him, and he turned his head, still lying on the ground. It was Eldir, of course, for his morning wake-up call. Eldir pulled him roughly to his feet, shaking off the snow that clung to his hair and back. 'You are no use to me dead,' he growled, 'so do not try to freeze yourself. Get up and about! We have to move again.' Celebros exhaled shakily, swaying on his numb feet. He had been traveling for days in these rags that had once been shoes. Someone from behind pushed him; he groaned and fell to his knees with a wheezing cough. He pushed himself up again. A sharp laugh came from behind him. This sport apparently amused Eldir. 'Well,' the Elf laughed, 'what is this? Could it be that this dangerous man is weakening?' Celebros began to turn to face him, but in a flash he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Eldir leaping forward. Hideously strong fingers gripped the flesh on his neck and shoulder and pushed down. His knees collapsed, and he fell, face forward in the snow. He had heard of this attack; Eldarion had taught it to him. Dimly, he recalled Eldarion saying, 'A pressure hold. Nasty one.' The voice continued on, but Celebros paid no heed to it any longer: a spasm of pain had just shot through him like a sharp knife piercing his shoulder, and with a loud hoarse yell he pulled himself away from the clutching hand, his foot shooting out and meeting someone. There was a yell, from him or someone else, he didn't know, but his leg still was agony. He rolled onto his back and glanced at Eldir. The Elf was growling softly, but also looked surprised. It took Celebros a moment to figure out why. It was that he had never fought back, never defended himself, before this. He lay on his back, panting from the amazing amount of exertion that the extrordinarily easy motion cost him. Eldir approached with disgust, reminding Celebros of Galadon, advancing menacingly on a defenseless boy. He remembered that boy, but could no longer picture him. He knew vaguely that that boy was him, but his mind rejected the information. Just as Galadon had, Eldir waited a moment, gazing into the face of the foe. But instead of attempting to stab him, the Elf's foot shot out and slammed into Celebros' ribs with a nauseating crunch. He gasped as it hit him, and a wave of pain washed over him. Looking satisfied but disgusted, Eldir moved away. Celebros was now gasping in quick, short breaths from the uncontrollable pain. He shut his eyes, wheezing, and tried to check if any of his ribs were broken. His fingers brushed the region which he had been kicked in, but before he could get a clear assesment of anything another wave of pain rolled through him, leaving him trembling. One of the Elves walked over to him. 'You need to get up,' the Elf said. Pity was in his voice, and remorse. He did not approve of Eldir's actions toward a child. 'No matter how badly you are hurt, it is essential to Eldir that we move on. 'I have been told to tell you that you have been insubordinate, pulling away from Lord Eldir, and this action is not to be repeated. For good sport, you may get some food later.' Disgust was clear on the Elf's face as he said that, but not disgust for the Man he was talking to, disgust for the treatment he was being given. 'Do you need a hand?' the Elf asked roughly, and without waiting for an answer pulled Celebros to his feet, then walked away. The pain had been sharp, but once he was on his feet it was agonizing. He shuddered and winced, and although the Elves around him were pretending not to notice, two shot dirty looks at Eldir. It didn't help him any, though. When the Elves began to move, he moved, his numbed feet dragging, stumbling along behind most of them. And the ones behind him were there to guard him. By the end of the day, he was asleep on his feet. Eldir came to question him again, on much the same subjects as he had before. 'Why were you going to Imladris, boy? Why not just stay in the City?' 'The King was tipped that someone had entered the City, and that I was not safe while I was there.' 'But surely you would be even less safe out of the City? Surely there were more of those searching for you in the lands outside of Gondor?' Celebros shrugged. He hadn't thought about that too much. 'I don't know,' he said slowly. 'You don't, eh? Well. I think I shall believe you. Do you know why this...person was looking for you?' 'No.' 'What have you done yet to make anyone want to hurt you?' 'In the year 57, when I was first caught by...your people... I was headed north to freed prisoners from the Elf Galadon in the North.' Eldir's eyes widened slightly, although he quickly masked it. 'More dangerous than you look, I see,' he said with a smirk. 'What else did you do?' 'Other than freeing the important captives? I fought with him, and although he nearly killed me, one of my friends leapt in before he gave the last stoke and struck him, on his shoulder, badly. But I think the captives were perhaps even more important.' 'Who were the captives?' 'Cundariel had been captured only days before, and we rescued her. Her brother Tasarian had been there thirty years. Aeargil, princess of Methnan, had been there about one year. She was never clear on that point, so I do not know for certain how long precisely. And Rilhir had been a captive three years. He was the one who struck Galadon's shoulder, but he was also badly injured, and died three days later.' Celebros was able to say it matter-of-factly, but Eldir could see the pain that it took to say it. 'I see,' he said slowly. 'You have been honest this time, boy. That is good.' He smiled, then made as if to turn and walk away. Before he had gotten far, he turned again. With a wicked smile, he said, 'How are you, boy?' He laughed at the expression on Celebros' face as he walked away. A thin blanket was brought to the boy before he fell asleep. It was dark by the time that happened. Eldir looked over at the boy. A grim smile came across his face. Grim, and wicked.

15 January, 59 FA

With a groan, Celebros collapsed to his knees again. This time, his guard did not kick him, did not pull him roughly to his feet. He didn't care or notice. His head was screaming. He let himself fall into the snow on his back. The sky was clearer, but still lingering in its utter depths were wisps of grey cloud. They didn't seem to move at all, to drift across the sky. Shapeless, matterless, they spread, thin. He could see the sky through them, some of them. Eldir was quite suddenly over him, eyes deep and angry. 'What is this?' he demanded. Celebros couldn't tell whether he was asking the guard or him, and couldn't answer anyway. But the guard answered hesitantly. 'He can't walk any longer, Lord. His legs will not work. They cannot support him. He has fallen many times already this morning.' Then his voice lowered, but Celebros could still hear it. 'He cannot do it, Lord. He is dying as we speak, slowly but surely. If he does not rest, we will find nothing, and any purpose you may bave for him will not be acheived. He will not be able to stand again, at least now. His legs are injured and frozen. He is failing.' Eldir glanced down at Celebros with only slight worry and unmasked disgust in his voice. 'He is weak,' Eldir sneered. 'Cover him, and give him more durthond.' He strode off, and Celebros could have sworn he had heard the Elf mutter to no one. 'And you are weaker.' But the guard called for a blanket, and covered Celebros with it carefully, and took the durthond he was offered. Celebros tasted the bitter liquid as it filled his mouth, and then tasted nothing. He stared up at the sky again, letting its blue chill spread through his body, and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.

16 January, 59 FA

Eldarion sighed resignedly and turned to Gwalas. 'I see no hope,' he said quietly, 'for they are far ahead. And if we find them, what then? There are two of us, and too many of them for us to fight.' 'Last time he was captured, we took him in the night, when there were few awake.' 'And all those awake agreed to let him go,' Eldarion said. 'Cundariel told me.' 'What does that matter? There are many, I know, who diapprove of retaking those who escaped. They think, as I do, that it makes no sense to retake them if they are out of the territory.' 'We have no assurances that those on guard will.' Gwalas was silent then. His long red hair blew back in the breeze, and Eldarion looked at him for a minute more, then turned away. 'Come along, now,' Gwalas sighed at length, his eyes sad, 'we must go on. The longer we tarry here, the longer Celebros is in their keeping. Come, Eldarion! Hurry! Hope is in speed!' Yet even as they rode on quickly, Gwalas' eyes showed no hope.

+++++

Celebros glanced over at Eldir quickly. He was not looking Celebros' way, and the young man rubbed his arms and hands quickly to warm them, then his legs. He had lost most of the feeling in his fingers, and the meager heat he got from rubbing them was painful. Eldir glanced his way, and he stopped. The Elf narrowed his eyes, but to Celebros' great relief and puzzlement, all he did was nod curtly and turn back away. Confused at this gesture, Celebros hesitantly continued rubbing his limbs. The ice beneath him, hard and cold, cut into his legs although he could not feel the cold. Could not sense the pain. Pressure was the only thing that told him this; he had not been able to feel much of anything other than pressure or the faint, scarce bit of heat except on his head, back, and chest. Or when hot blood ran across him. There were a few places that were bruised that hurt if pressured, but other than that there was just numbness. He felt...nothing. Emptiness. No feeling, and little emotion save fear, and next to nothing else except weariness and hunger. Cold was not a factor. He had heard some of the Elves talking, too. One had said to another, 'Why do they do this to him?' and the mutters from others said much the same, or said that many disagreed with this treatment, or at least did not see the point in it. It seemed to be against rules. This did not much help his case, however, for many were too afraid of Eldir to do anything, and others said it was his business. Celebros sighed and tried to sleep. He would not get much; Eldir would come again and question him, or see some of his 'sport'. It was as it had been for days... He wondered suddenly, sleepily, how many days it had been. Had it been a week? Two? Four? A month or more? He realized, with a yawn, that he had no clear idea of whether it had been five days or five weeks or more than that. He tried to remember how many times he had slept, and could not. He had vague memories of Eldir asking him questions, or kicking him, and once stepping on his hand. Another yawn split his face as he looked down at the hand. It was, like the other, reddened, but also swollen. Perhaps it had been broken. He touched it, and felt a twinge of pain. There was no reaction across his face, for he could not truly feel the pain, just a sense of pressure and numbness. Tired. The word flickered through his mind, and it took a moment to process it, to remember it. He should sleep. Looking around for Eldir, he saw the Elf standing over by the pile of snow that was blocking out some of the wind. Another faint memory came to him suddenly, as if it was someone else's, far away and long ago. A river: they had crossed a river. How long ago? Again, he could not remember. With a sigh, the young man blinked several times, trying to shake off sleep. Sleep; a foreign word, far-off, another lost memory of long ago. It flooded over him, sending him into a dream of something he could not place. Somewhere bright, and warm, where there were things and people that he knew. A place of many people. He could not remember it when he awoke. There were many things he could no longer remember.

19 January, 59 FA

'We are near the Gap of Rohan,' Gwalas said, coming out of deep thoughts and turning back to Eldarion at the fire. 'How near?' Eldarion did not look up, but stayed crouched, warming his hands and forearms. 'Three days, perhaps. Give or take a day.' 'Good. It is best that we go on as quickly as possible. Now is when we make our decision.' He looked up, his gaze steady. 'Where do we go to look? If there are enough of them that they do not have horses, we have hope to catch up but not to defeat. If there are few enought that they have them, then we haven't much of a hope of overtaking them; they have quite a head start on us as it is. Of course, we haven't much of a hope of finding them in any case.' 'Ah, but in these previous years there has been more snow in the Mountains than is usual, and if it has been anything like I have heard they will have had several days where they have had to stop. We have hope yet, so do not give yours up.' 'We still must make a decision on our plan of approach. What do you think, Gwalas?' There was a moment in which neither of them spoke. Gwalas broke it, saying, 'Here at least the snow is fading. I do not understand this weather, though: it is much snowier than it should be. That is as it has been in the last few years, but especially so in the mountains. There is some devilry brewing, I can feel it. Perhaps it will be for the better, but I do not know about that. In any case, I would say that we should skirt the western edge of Fangorn Forest, for I do not know it well, we would get lost. Then we go into the Mountains.' Eldarion nodded. 'Sensible,' he said quietly, 'except for one point. One point, and two reasons. It would be quicker and more direct to skirt Fangorn on the east. They have certainly passed there, and then we do not have to deal with the heavy snow. And, as I said, it is quicker and more direct.' Gwalas raised his eyebrows. 'You're right,' he said, nodding approvingly. 'Good thinking, Eldarion. We will have to set out that way tomorrow, then. North-west. Yes, that is a sensible plan.' Eldarion looked blankly across the fire. He finished warming his arms, turned around, and lay down, his back to Gwalas, covered by his cloak. Gwalas, still nodding, turned and did the same.

+++++

It was still dark and quiet, but Celebros was not asleep, and neither, he noted, was Eldir. Eldir was not on watch, being the leader of the group of so many, but he sat, aware and erect, his back to Celebros. Celebros groaned softly. It had been warmer that afternoon, and he had been nearer to the fire, so he had, unfortunatly, regained feeling in his limbs, followed by a wave of sickness and pain, aching sore mucles, and straight though and feeling. The last was the only thing he was grateful for, because he was able to think without running into words that he had thought of and not remembered the meaning of. It was as if all the confusion had thawed out. With the onset of nightfall, however, the cold had returned, and was beginning to ebb back once more into him, freezing his thoughts. He sighed, shut his eyes, and tried to make use of the time he had to think lucidly before sleep came, and memories failed. It was not easy; already he was very cold, and more aware of it than when he was numb. His head pounded, making him more aware of the blood running down it, more aware of the gash on his temple. It had remained unbound and unattended, of course, which did not surprise him. A token of the last encounter with Eldir. It was deep, and he would not be surprised if it gave him more trouble than the other various injuries with the possible exception of the ribs. It did surprise him how calm he was as this ran through his head. He looked around at the dark site, trying to imagine something other than this, something from...before. It was hard, and his head pounded fiercely, but he got an image and tried to fix it in his head; an image of his grandfather's face. Smiling. His grey eyes gleaming. The image fixed in his mind, and when he shut his eyes, it was as if someone had placed that picture over his face. But it was two people. Not just his grandfather, his king, but himself as well. It was clear and sharp, a memory of a young man who no longer existed. Now the young man was gone, and replaced by a weaker version; larger and smaller, stonger and less strong. The face that he wore was now lined with care and fear, and also scarred and bleeding, wearied and haunted. It was the face of one who has given up his mind to one thought, and one hope, and with the hope now slowly fading. What chance was there now that he would be rescued? For several days he had hoped, but now it had been a very long time. If he was ever found, it probably would not be alive. This sudden thought puzzled him, but he left it and focused again on the dimming image of the King Elessar's face.

24 January, 59 FA

'They're gone,' Eldir said quietly to his captive. The boy was tied, for he had been fighting again, and his wrists, knees, and ankles were so tightly bound that there were small streaks of blood on the wrists. The ankles he could not see. 'Who?' Celebros asked quietly. He had learned the game, Eldir wanted to have him ask this, so he did. 'Those that were following. They've likely been gone for days, but they were far enough behind they never knew that we had seen them. That is not my point. You're slowing us down. I know you can go faster.' Celebros did not reply. He knew what was coming, and he had no reply. The drugged drink they had given him had slowed him down considerably on the day's march. The wicked burn on the back of his neck stung cruelly, the pain from it renewed. How had it happened again? He couldn't remember. 'I know it, and you are just slowing us down. There is nothing to be done that I know of save telling you to pick up the pace.' Silence greeted him...he snarled, as he had done after this had happened the other times, and again kicked Celebros in the ribs. Hard this time, making him gasp and clutch at it, groaning. A bit harder than he was prepared for. He coughed, and blood trickled out of his mouth. He was on his knees, then lying on the ground. Pain. He moaned; a soft little sound of defeat. Eldir walked away. The blood was hot and bitter in his mouth, staining his lower lip. It froze there, cold and hard. He coughed again, hard, and the sharp dagger of pain shot through him. His light green shirt, fluttering like a thin, torn banner for the Galadil, was tinged a crimson shade on the front. Nearly sobbing with then pain, but holding it back, he rolled onto his back and shook there. It hurt even to shake, because he was tied tightly, but after a while he was somehow able to wipe his mouth on the shoulder of his garment, cutting his wrists' wounds open again, tainting his shirt yet more. After a time, still shaking, he drifted into an uneasy state of sleep, waking several times in the night.

25 January, 59 FA

'We are on their trail, that is certain,' Gwalas said unnecessarily. 'We are too far behind to know anything more, but we see their tracks. Do you not yet see hope? We have traveled faster than I would have thought possible, or they have gone slower.' 'They would, with a prisoner, wouldn't they?' Eldarion muttered. There was no one to be seen, but he had an uneasy feeling and so did not talk loudly. 'More likely they would merely push him to go very fast.' 'He'll be injured, won't he?' Eldarion did not hesitate for once, and neither did Gwalas in his reply. 'Yes. Badly, likely; broken bones or worse. I don't know what to say, Eldarion. He will not be unscathed, by any means. At least they will have questioned him, and mistreated him, and drugged him likely.' Eldarion was silent, but Gwalas saw him shake his head as if in denial. The haunted look in his eyes and tone in his voice told Gwalas all he needed, and they did not speak again for some time. They rode on in the cold for a time, rested briefly, and rode on, and rested...it was a tiring ritual. 'I want him to be normal,' Eldarion said after almost two hours without actual discussion, 'and I want him to be the same as he used to. But he won't be, will he? He'll be different. He won't be the same anymore.' 'He won't,' Gwalas agreed, 'but that doesn't mean a change for the worse.' 'I don't see how kidnapping and abuse can have positive effects on a seventeen-year-old Man.' Gwalas shook his head. 'Not that you can think of, perhaps,' he said quietly, 'but there are many ways. Many, many, but none are the path I would have chosen. Or anyone who wants the child to live a normal life. But he's not normal, is he? He's special, Celebros is.' Memory and a hint of something else flickered across Eldarion's face. There was a dead silence once more. A very dead silence. 'In any case,' Gwalas said, 'we will likely be able to find them, and get close enough to do something, within the next week.' 'Perhaps,' Eldarion said absently, obviously not believing it. 'And the tracks we have found show no horses.' 'That is true.' This time there was thoughtfulness in his voice, although still not much hope. Perhaps a bit. Gwalas turned away and shrugged his shoulders. 'We haven't found many tracks, though,' Eldarion added grimly. 'But horse-tracks would have been deeper and broader.' 'You're right,' Eldarion admitted. 'Let's keep going. It will be dark soon, but I don't think that will stall us. It'll stall them, though, most likely.' Eldarion nodded, and they went on, past the night and twilight for several hours.

29 January, 59 FA

The blow came again, harder this time, and Celebros shuddered, collapsing from his hands and knees onto his face, blood trickling from his mouth and the back of his head. A fresh coat of scarlet covered his shirt. His lip was split and his face darkened, his neck throbbing, and his only thought was that he was going to die. A savage kick hit his back; it arced, and his body curled into a ball. He felt the toe of Eldir's boot nudge his side. 'He's wasted,' a voice said. 'You're going to kill him, do you realize that? You beat him too much, and you're all but freezing him and starving him to death. He can't be any use to you dead. You can't ransom him, you can't sell him into the slave trade in the south, and all you'll get is trouble from Gondor. He's important, he isn't like the others. I don't think you see that, but we could fetch a rare price from ransoming, or selling him, as long as he's not dead. He'd be a good slave in the south if he heals from the ordeal you've given him.' 'I don't need him to be a good worker, I need him to be able to answer questions. I'm not going to sell him, and I don't intend to give him up for ransom. I want him for information, and I can sell him if we defeat Gondor.' 'All the same, he can't answer questions if he's dead, or if you put him in a coma.' 'All right, so maybe you're right. What should I do with him now?' 'If we keep him out here in this state, he'll be dead before he wakes up, or dying. Wrap him up warm and give him a bit to eat and one of your drugs to numb him. Look at him, Eldir, he's a boy. You're too hard on him. It's against the rules.' 'And you're too soft. The rules state clearly that in special cases -' 'If he doesn't get food and heat, I give him forty-eight hours.' 'But the drug?' 'I don't know, I'm not a doctor!' 'Can you deal with him?' 'Of course.' Celebros heard all this through a mist, but it was cleared quickly as a hand touched his back. He tried to shrink away, but the hand was insistant. He felt himself being rolled over onto his back, and then the hand was gone for a moment. Just as quickly it was back, and he felt a blanket wrap around him. 'Here, boy,' a quiet voice said, 'you need to eat something.' The pain was searing like a fire sweeping through his body, but somehow he understood the words. 'Boy, come on. You have to eat something or you're going to die.' Die, was that not a good thing? His stomach was a knawing empty pit, but was it pain or hunger? A hand slapped his face hard, and he forced his eyes open. A face swam before his. 'Eldarion?' he asked, not knowing what that word meant. 'No. You have to eat, boy. Here, take this -' His vision was blurred, but he knew the Elf was holding out something to him. 'Can't move my hands that well,' Celebros muttered, trying to flex his fingers, but he couldn't feel them. He heard the man mutter a curse and felt something in his mouth. He moved his jaw and tried to swallow, tasting blood along with the food, but his throat was swollen. It took a while, but he managed to get it down. It felt unusual, like it wasn't supposed to be there. That almost made sense, but his mind was fogged. The cold that was normal was giving way to heat, and pain. Fingers found his pulse and stayed there for a minute. Someone asked a question, and the man said, 'His heart rate is pretty sluggish...I don't know if he's going to make it.' 'Give him the drug,' Eldir's voice said reluctantly. The man in front of him gave a sigh of relief. After a minute, the rim of a cup met his mouth. 'Drink this,' the soft voice said, and tilted it into his mouth. It had a sharp coppery taste, he would have normally said, but right at that moment it didn't taste like anything. He swallowed and slipped into darkness.

1 February, 59 FA

Eldarion peered through the darkness. 'They went in here?' he asked, turning to Gwalas. 'Yes.' The Elf did not seem to have any trouble seeing through the dark of the mountain tunnel, it was as if his eyes cut through it. 'Why?' 'I don't know. Maybe they were getting tired of the cold. It's bitter this year, worse than usual.' 'I know. I've been out there as long as you have.' Gwalas had no reply to this, and Eldarion started forward into the tunnel. Gwalas followed him, but after a while was obliged to go in front, because Eldarion could hardly see his hand in front of his face. After a while Gwalas stopped and examined the wall. Eldarion held up the makeshift torch he had lit, trying to see what it was, and Gwalas turned around, his face pale. 'Blood,' he said quietly. 'It's blood...'

3 February, 59 FA

The tunnel was dark. Celebros was hardly awake; the drug had not completely worn off. The pain was unbelievable. He was very weak, too, he realized as he stumbled again. The cold, the abuse, and the drugs had done that to him. Hungry, and tired - and frightened, he realized. He had no idea what they were doing here. They came to a sudden halt, and Eldir began ordering them to do various unimportant tasks. Celebros leaned against the tunnel's stone wall, half- asleep. It wasn't until Eldir was already coming towards him that he realized he was backing into a corner. The tall Elf was fingering his knife. A bolt of fear ran through Celebros as he began to remember what exactly a sharp knife could do. 'So, child,' Eldir said quietly when he had reached the boy, speaking so softly that none of the others could hear him, 'it has come to this. I have been informed that you have been slowing us down again. This may not be your fault, but I believe you could go much faster than you have been. I cannot - I will not - be slowed down.' It had come to this, Celebros realized. He was frightened, but if he knew what was coming...it didn't matter. Still, though, he could read the lie in the elf's words; it was not speed that the elf was worried about. Eldir had realized something, too - he would get nothing out of Celebros. Suddenly he realized that the knife had been unsheathed. A shiver ran through the boy. The blade was sharp and ugly. NO! Celebros' thought was not fierce, but very firm. He repeated it to himself, in his mind, over and over: No, no. No! 'Why, child, are you afraid?' Eldir's voice was scornful. He paused, waiting for an answer. Getting none, he continued, 'One would think you were deadly frightened. You are sweating, boy. Are you possibly imagining what my blade could do to you? 'It could kill you, boy.' The voice bored into Celebros' mind like a drill. Yet after Eldir said this, the voice inside the young man's head said no. 'It wouldn't be very hard, either.' No! The voice was full of fear, and he thought for a moment he had said it aloud. The Elf pressed his knife breifly, withour breaking the skin, to the young man's skin, then retracted it. 'It could be slow,' he said, thoughtfully, considering. 'Very slow.' The voice stopped suddenly, and as it did, so did the one in Celebros' mind. Out of the darkness, a sudden faraway shrill shreik came, and another. Then dead silence filled the hall. The Elf raised the knife to the boy's throat. He held his breath. For a minute that seemed like a year, all was silent and still. 'You could not have honestly thought you could get away?' A thin trickle of blood seeped down Celebros' neck. His breath was shaky. This was it. 'I do not think I shall kill you,' Eldir said thoughtfully. Celebros' heart leapt, but at the next words sank again. 'But you aren't any use to me anymore. I know you aren't going to tell me anything. I shall leave you for the orcs instead. They are near, as we have heard, and you will wish you were dead for a good time before you are. Who knows? Perhaps this is stronger than I believe, even. That would save you some pain.' With an unbelievable speed, he reached for the flask by his waist and forced all of the liquid down the boy's throat, through his teeth. He choked and spluttered, but Eldir held him down tight, and he was too weak to resist the powerful Elf. Eventually he fell still, and was left alone in the orc-halls of the Misty Mountains.

+++++

Gwalas and Eldarion hurried down the dark halls, the former being in the lead. The light of their torch did not reveal much, and it was long work. Suddenly Gwalas stopped. 'Orc,' he hissed, and leapt forward. A shreik ran out in the tunnel as a small orc leapt forward, and another as his throat was skillfully slit. They hurried on. Minutes of silence passed, they came to a dead end. Darkness wreathed around them, they suddenly came into a small narrow room. Eldarion sighed worridly. 'This might take -' 'There!' 'What?! Celebros?' 'I think so. There, in the hall, in the corner, see!' It was impossible to contain their anxiety as they rushed forward. Both knelt as one on either side of the small figure slumped on the ground. It was indeed Celebros. A new, shallow slit was on the front of his neck. Eldarion bent over the boy, and put his ear to the boy's mouth, listening for a flutter of breath. Gwalas put his fingers to the young man's neck, feeling for a pulse. He found the spot, but paused as Eldarion sharply drew a ragged breath and let out a sudden cry, drawing back. Gwalas looked up. Eldarion slowly raised his head and looked, his eyes wide and his mouth open. 'He's not breathing,' he whispered. 'Gwalas - he's not breathing.' His voice was shocked and tainted with disbelief, as if he knew what he had said and also knew it couldn't be true. There was a silence. Both of them stared at each other, eyes blank and horrified, full of greif and despair. Gwalas opened his mouth once as if to say something, then hid his face by looking down, and found Celebros' pulse again. Eldarion heard a sharp inhalation and looked up. 'He's still alive,' Gwalas whispered shakily. 'I feel the pulse. Very weak, but it is there. He must be breathing, but barely.' Their eyes met breifly, both total relief and vivid terror. Eldarion made as if to pick him up, but Gwalas caught his arm. 'Don't move him yet! We can't, until we know what is wrong. He might die if we do.' The Elf's face was anguished, as was his voice, but he tried to make it calm. 'Is he cold?' Eldarion put his hand to the boy's cheek, and forehead, and he took one of the boy's hands in his. 'Yes.' 'Well, I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise. He has no coat, or hat...Elbereth, look at him, he's... I think that it will be safe to move him. If he has been drugged or starved, it cannot be too seriously or he should already be dead.' There was a silence as the two of them stared at the still form in front of them, and Eldarion caught a Sindarin curse. Then a whisper. 'What have they done to him?' Eldarion lifted the boy's head, then set it down again. 'All right,' he whispered, and scooped Celebros' still form off the ground, cradling it a moment before he stood, as if he was holding tiny Meneldil instead of an almost-eighteen-year-old. 'Where should we go?' 'I don't know,' Gwalas said frankly. 'We shouldn't take him out into the cold in this state, and he won't be able to ride himself. Where could we get heavier clothing?' 'I do not know. And neither of us has any extra clothing to spare, Eldarion, so do not think about that. We were not warm enough as it was on the way over. I do not need to deal with two sick companions. Let me think. Methnan is too far; probably more than two days in this weather.' 'Well, we should at least find some place where we can wake him, and perhaps tend some of his wounds, shouldn't we? He certainly can't go anywhere this way.' They set off through the tunnels. They did not get far. Before they had been going five minutes, the boy began to groan in his sleep, and they were obliged to stop. It pained Eldarion to notice how cold the boy's form was against him. Celebros seemed... dead. He was completely unresponsive, his skin was cold, and his breathing was light. He would die if his injuries were not treated soon. It was painfully obvious that he was dying; it appeared his will to live was not strong. He would recover well, however, of course, if he was healed properly soon. Eldarion lay the boy down on the ground. 'Gwalas,' he said quietly, 'can you tend him here, or do we have to go farther?' 'Here,' the red-haired elf responded tiredly, 'but I will need a fire. Have we any wood left? Water?' 'There was wood near where we found Celebros,' Eldarion said, not looking at Gwalas, and staring instead into the sleeping young man's face. 'And we both have water...but we may need that.' 'When we get outside, we can melt snow to replenish our supply.' Gwalas sounded almost absent. 'I can go get the wood. I am...rather distracted. I...Eldarion, I feel responsible for this. I should have arranged a watch. The night he was taken, we did not put anyone on guard. I should have -' 'No!' Eldarion looked up in shock and fixed his gaze on Gwalas. He sounded almost fierce. 'For one thing, if any of us thought you responsible, Elladan and Elrohir and the others have as much responsibility as you to set up a watch. But the Galadil, as you above others should know, have their ways. We have him. They did not want us to get him. I do not know why they left him, but I would guess that they heard the orc's cries and thought that he would be taken by them.' 'Very well. I'll go get the firewood.' Eldarion did not answer. When Gwalas' footsteps had faded, he looked back at Celebros. The boy's face was almost peaceful, but his breathing was still so shallow it could barely be detected. It made him sad, because the face was one he did not recognize any longer. The light of Gwalas' torch warned Eldarion that he was coming back. He looked up as the Elf returned back into the room. His arms were full, with many pieces of wood of various sizes nearly covering his face. He quickly built a fire and lit it from his torch. They also began warming some water. While they were waiting for it to heat enough, Gwalas checked the injuries. Aside from the cut on the front of his neck, Celebros was covered with bruises, and there was a burn on the his neck that stretched perhaps six inches and was maybe half an inch thick, more than half the way around. It looked almost charred. The front of his neck was not burned. Celebros also had two broken ribs, and his hand was apparently broken in several places. There were several new scars on the side of his face - jagged and long, as if he had been thrown to the ground. In addition to that, he was badly frostbitten. There were several other things, too - miscellaneous scratches and cuts and scars - but before they were able to discover them all, the water was ready. Eldarion was quite surprised when Gwalas took from his pouch several leaves of athelas, obviously not fresh, but still unbroken. 'I harvested it before the first frost,' Gwalas explained as he broke the first leaf in the water. A fresh scent dashed through the room, ridding Gwalas and Eldarion of weariness. Celebros' breathing immediately became easier than it had before, if rather short. Gwalas let the leaf soak a time. 'It ought to work rather well,' he said, 'if not as well as if it were fresh. But you can already see the effect it is having.' Indeed, it seemed a touch of color was returning to the boy's face. But other than the rising and falling of his chest, he made no move. When the leaf had been steeped in the water long enough, Gwalas bathed the boy's face and neck and his other various injuries. Then he stowed the rest away. 'He'll need more than this later,' was all he would say. How long they sat in the dark tunnel, neither could later guess. Celebros was not as cold as he had been before, but still did not wake. Once or twice he stirred, and several times muttered something quickly, and although they could not catch his words, it sounded like Sindarin. Eldarion was worried, but Gwalas said, 'Remember they may have drugged him. That is what I would guess. They always keep a supply of certain kinds. None of these would hurt him, I should guess, unless they used more than they ought.' 'And what if they did?' Eldarion muttered. But Gwalas did not answer. All he did was look gravely at the young man on the floor. At last, the boy stirred again and opened his eyes. He was not very aware, and was obviously on the edge of sleep. He seemed to think he was dreaming. He didn't sit up, or move much at all apart from his hands. Eldarion took one gently to see if he was warmer, but before he could get a clear picture the boy shrank away. Eldarion had to remind himself that Celebros had been kidnapped and mistreated for more than a month. The boy looked around almost wildly. Gwalas did not speak, but when Celebros began to move took his hand. The boy made as if to draw away, then quite suddenly his eyes closed and he was asleep again. 'We should move him,' Gwalas said quietly after a silent moment. 'We must find something warmer to put on him, and bring him outside. He is uneasy here, and there is something lurking. Orcs perhaps, but I do not think so. I can feel it, and so can he, apparently.' Eldarion didn't dispute this, but was struck by a sudden thought. 'We're about a day from the outside,' he said quietly. 'If we get near there, you could try to go out and get an animal, and we could use the fur -' 'Yes,' Gwalas said softly, nodding, but distant. 'That would be - good. We need meat anyway.' They hurridly cleaned up the site, not wanting to leave any sign of their presence for orcs. Eldarion lifted Celebros and they hurried back.

4 February, 59 FA

'Most of the meat is in my bag,' Gwalas said, 'but there is some in yours.' 'All right.' 'Is Celebros waking up at all?' 'No. He is certainly warmer, though. He will wake soon, and we should have some food ready. I very much doubt they have fed him properly.'

+++++

Celebros did not open his eyes. He stifled a groan through his teeth, moved his head and thought hard. He was on the floor, in a fur or... There were the sounds of a fire, and someone talking, and another outside. Suddenly he remembered dimly what had happened: Eldir had threatened to kill him, force-fed him some of the sleep herb, and left him for the orcs. But the person talking didn't sound like an orc. It sounded familiar. It sounded like someone he knew. But after so long with the Galadil, he just couldn't place it... who could it be? Eldarion. Celebros' eyes opened. He was safe. With Eldarion, and someone else. He was wrapped in the fur of some animal, lying on the floor of a tunnel near the exit. A red-haired figure was stooped outside, and Eldarion was tending a small fire. Well, then. Eldarion and Gwalas. He groaned softly as he tried to sit up. His chest was sore, and his hand, and his neck where he had been burned, and his head was pounding... Eldarion whipped around. 'Lie still!' he hissed urgently. Celebros stopped trying to sit up, and the alarm in Eldarion's eyes died. Gwalas turned around as Eldarion crawled over to the boy. 'You've broken two or three ribs,' he growled, although his voice was worried. 'You are also severely frostbitten. Don't try to move much right now. We just gave you some more of... some herb Gwalas has.' 'Methya,' Gwalas called form where he was now tending the fire. 'And a bit of -' 'Whatever.' Eldarion's voice was dry. 'Anyway, the pain will die off in a while, but that doesn't mean that you can't do damage to yourself.' Celebros opened his mouth suddenly. 'Where's Men-' he began, but Eldarion lay a finger across the boy's lips. 'Quiet,' he said. 'I should check your burn, and add more athelas. Meneldil's dead.' Celebros gasped, winced, but whether from the news or the pain, Eldarion couldn't tell. The boy soon fell asleep again.

+++++

'He's weak,' Eldarion said, turning to Gwalas. 'Quite so, despite everything we've done.' 'I know,' Gwalas replied softly. 'I know, but there is nothing more either of us can do. Part of his weakness is physical, of course, but there is also far too much weakness mentally. Far more than there should be. I wonder what they did to him, or told him.' 'I do not think,' Eldarion said quietly, 'that I want to know.' The boy stirred again in his sleep. Eldarion tried to still him, but the pressure made him groan in his sleep. Eldarion gave up trying to stop him from moving. 'How soon will the meat be ready?' Eldarion asked. 'Soon,' Gwalas said. 'What do you think? Should we wake the boy to eat?' Eldarion hesitated. This was hard; balancing which need was the more urgent: the need for food or sleep. 'I think we can wake him, but only when it's ready and not before. He has been sleeping for some time, and I do not know how long it has been since he has eaten.' The food was ready within twenty minutes, and Gwalas woke the boy then. His eyes opened and focused, and he smiled. 'It wasn't a dream, then,' he whispered, his voice hoarse. 'We have some meat. You should have some.' Celebros laughed quietly. 'I could eat just about anything,' he said quietly. 'Eldir did not like parting with enough food to make a whole meal.' Gwalas froze. 'Eldir?' he muttered, almost to himself, sounding...something unplacable. Then louder. 'Eldir? Are you certain?' Celebros nodded slowly, confused at the reaction. Gwalas' eyes were narrowed, for one, but all his face was reflecting both total shock and disgust and anger, and - just maybe - a hint of fear? His eyebrows were raised, his teeth clenched, but his lips open and he was flexing his hand. 'Eldir was my friend until he befriended Brethil,' Gwalas explained, his voice lowered. 'Brethil was of lower status then, but not by much. Status is determined by ability and skill, but also the number of captives and how many are lost. There are never many lost. But it bacame a contest between Brethil and Eldir to see how many captives they could take. It started out as a game, but as the acheived higher posts, they gained supporters. Now they are bitter rivals. Eldir is colder, harsher, and Brethil is more abiding to the rules. Eldir breaks many.' Gwalas' eyes flickered to the boy's neck and bruised, blood-stained face. 'Too many, but no one has yet become bold enough to report this, because Eldir has so many supporters that once it was found out who had told, the speaker would find himself conveniently dead in a hunting accident or fallen into a stream.' Gwalas bit off the last words, his voice now so bitter that Celebros wondered whether the elf knew this from personal experiences. Celebros nodded again. He was tired, but hunger overcame that. 'It's ready,' Eldarion called. 'How do you feel, Celebros?' 'Tired,' he admitted, 'and a bit light-headed -' 'Light-headed?' Gwalas said sharply. 'You shouldn't be, unless you lost more blood through that cut on your neck than we thought, or they gave you too much of the drug.' 'They gave me quite a lot,' Celebros said sleepily. 'He said - he -' A yawn split the boy's face and one of his wounds began to bleed again. He didn't seem to notice. Pain was something he was used to. 'Sorry,' he murmured. 'Tired.' 'Here, boy,' Gwalas said, handing him the meat, 'eat this before you fall asleep.' Eldarion could hear the concern in his voice. 'All right.' Celebros knawed on the tough meat, too tired to wonder what it was or to wonder what they would do now. Gwalas moved to tend the fire as the boy ate, and Eldarion moved closer to Celebros. After finishing the meat, he yawned again and lay down on his back atop the fur, staring at the stone ceiling. For a moment Eldarion just looked at him. Celebros smiled, winced, and looked over at him. Eldarion's mouth twitched too, but he did not smile. The sight of Celebros' state was too painful. 'Here,' the Prince said, extricating a bottle from one of his bags but not taking his eyes off the boy. He was so weak. 'Drink some of this.' Celebros tried to lift his hand but winced. Eldarion looked at it, concerned. The hand was crushed and swollen badly. 'Here,' Eldarion sighed gently, and held the bottle up to Celebros' mouth. Some trickled in - Celebros almost choked on it, it was so strong - but he held it in his mouth, savoring the taste. Eldarion stared at the ground, pain and bitterness painting his eyes. Finally the boy swallowed. 'Strong stuff,' he said hoarsely. 'Stronger taste than the durthond, but not as rich.' Tears of fury at his nephew's treatment stung in Eldarion's eyes. 'How did he...' Celebros began, but his voice trailed off in a yawn. He did not say more, but just looked at Eldarion sadly, unable to continue. 'Aeargil was resting one day, and when she woke up he wasn't breathing. It was as simple as that.' 'Oh,' Celebros said softly. 'Aeargil and I left for Methnan immediately after his funeral. It was a short service; no life story to tell. It was about two hours before sunset, and we left at dusk.' 'With the King's leave?' 'No. I didn't want to be stalled, and he would figure out where we were going. He knows for sure by now. We met Gwalas, Snaga, and Pernathos a while after leaving the City, and Snaga, Aeargil, and Pernathos continued on to the City.' 'What about the others? Cundariel, Elladan and Elrohir, Tasarian?' 'They have probably reached the City by now. They started to follow you, but Gwalas said all the horses were stolen, so they have probably returned.' 'Aeargil is in the City now, then?' 'No. She was going back to get an escort and another horse, and leaving immediately for Methnan.' Celebros blinked in surprise. He did not ask any more. Eldarion ruffled his hair gently. 'Go to sleep now, Celebros,' he said. A small smile spread across the boy's face, and he closed his eyes. Soon his breathing was even and deep.

5 February, 59 FA

'Celebros,' Eldarion began, 'we can't travel yet. You are in no condition to go anywhere.' 'Why? I traveled far enough with broken ribs, on foot, without treatment.' 'And it almost killed you. Just traveling with it was enough. Even with my herbs you said it was still sore, and if you didn't have serious tissue damage, it wouldn't be,' Gwalas intervened. 'This is not the kind of thing to experiment with, boy. You could kill yourself that way.' 'How do you know it was the travel that caused the damage? It could have been the fact that it hadn't been treated, or that I had to walk, or that I couldn't choose the pace, or it could have been - and probably was, mind - what they - what he -' Celebros broke off, unable to say it. Gwalas shook his head, - in anger. He was trying to make the boy understand, and Celebros would not. Eldarion looked sick and disgusted and desperate. 'It may have been a mixture of those that caused it to be as bad as it was, boy. All I know is, when we found you, you were dying. We thought at first you were already dead. I do not want to lose you by your own choice and foolishness!' Celebros leaned back against the wall again, not saying any more for the moment, his eyes closed. 'The fact is, Celebros,' Eldarion said firmly, 'we are not going anywhere and there's nothing you can do about it. You are proving your weakness right now. Give it up. It's no use fighting; we are probably going to be here at least another couple of weeks.' Celebros groaned, opening his eyes. 'Two weeks?' he said, his voice weak. 'Most likely,' Gwalas said, trying to keep the grimness out of his voice. 'Perhaps longer.' There was a pause in which Celebros opened his eyes. 'I should have fought, you know,' he said quietly. 'That's what he wanted, after all: good sport. He wanted reason. He had fun, taunting me and laughing at me. Threatening me...Maybe he wouldn't have tried as hard, then, to get me to fight him. I don't remember it very well. It was cold...and he told me...he said...' The boy closed his eyes again and bit his lip, hard. When he opened his eyes again, they were full. 'He said he could hurt them...hurt you, hurt everyone. He taunted me, and he hurt me, and he knew I was too weak to fight back. He knew I didn't have the will power. He knew me. He -' Celebros' voiced broke a moment, and he continued, his hand on the burn as if he was unaware of it - which he probably was, Eldarion mused. 'After my neck got burned, he took me to the door of the structure we were in, and he told me - he said - "Run, boy, and you'll be free. I won't stop you,"...but I didn't. He knew I wouldn't. I wanted to - Elbereth, I did - but I couldn't. If - I thought if I did, then maybe he'd catch someone else.' There was a long pause. Celebros took a deep, shuddering breath, and another.. He did not say anything more for a long time, and Eldarion and Gwalas stood still, looking at him in pity and sympathy. Eldarion's eyes were narrowed, and he was biting his lip hard. At last Celebros looked up again. 'It hurts,' he whispered. 'It hurts.' His vision dimmed. Eldarion shook his head, and pulled his sleeve over his eyes. He glanced at Gwalas, and they sat down, one on either side of Celebros. Eldarion lay his hand gently on then boy's shoulder. Celebros looked up yet again at Eldarion. After a time, he fell asleep again.

8 February, 59 FA

'How's he doing?' 'Not well. Not well at all. I've been thinking, and what he said is fairly sensible. He needs more treatment than either of us can provide.' 'I know, but moving will put him in a worse state than this.' 'So will staying.' 'He could die, Eldarion! Doesn't that mean anything to you?' Gwalas had struck a nerve, and for a moment the look on Eldarion's face was murderous. Then he calmed slightly, but his voice still shook with suppressed emotion. 'He could die here, I'm telling you. It's worse than it looks, too - the neck injuries, they're infected. And the frostbite is bad enough that he might have to lose a few fingers, or maybe just the fingertips if it's not as bad as it looks.' 'Frostbite always looks worse than it is. It can only get better. Unless -' 'That's what I'm afraid of.' The two voices continued fighting. It was all confused and jumbled in Celebros' mind - was it a dream? He had dream a great deal. Who were the voices talking about? 'We're both afraid of that. Listen to me, Eldarion! Going back to the City, we could come across orcs, or goblins left over from the battling -' Eldarion's voice cut in. To Celebros' dim surprise it was thick with sarcasm. 'Let me see. Tell me this, Gwalas, are we more likely to find orcs on the road or in an orc-cave?' 'They don't even use this cave anymore!' 'Then who was that thing we killed before we found him?' 'One. Not two hundred that are still loose near the Grey Wood.' 'So we can take him to Methnan.' 'Aeargil's people, as you yourself told me, are not very skilled at healing.' 'Better than what we've got!' There was a pause. Celebros opened his eyes, but neither Gwalas nor Eldarion, who of course they were, noticed him. Thoughts swirled dimly through his head. 'All right,' Eldarion sighed after a moment, 'maybe we can't bring him to Father. But we could bring Father to him, couldn't we?' 'Eldarion, having the King and the heirs of the King together in an orc- tunnel is just not a good idea. And that would take longer than just waiting until the ribs and other injuries are healing.' 'They're not going to heal right,' Eldarion said softly, 'the ribs aren't aligned. You can see that much from looking at them, and more, being yourself, I'd wager. And I told you, the marks on his neck are infecting. That's a dangerous thing. And you being a healer, you know all this and more! And you probably saw it coming, too!' 'Are you blaming me, Eldarion? Do you think this is my fault? I should have put up a guard, and I know that! Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that I don't hate myself for it? Every time I look at him, I feel something twist inside of me. Yes, this is my fault! But I'm trying to stop it. You couldn't do half of what I've done - do you know what I go through? I would trade my life for his in a heartbeat, and you think that -' Celebros took in a deep breath, and suddenly Eldarion and Gwalas' heads snapped to look at him, and as one they scrambled over to where he lay. 'Celebros, can you hear me?' He didn't move or signal that he had heard at all. His eyes were the only thing that moved, darting around. Eldarion noticed the eyes. 'He's aware,' he said to Gwalas, 'look at his eyes.' 'Mmm.' Gwalas seemed preoccupied. 'But can he speak to us? If not, maybe you are right. Loss of speech and controlled rational thinking is a sign of head injury, or some damage. And if it was right before we found him, or within a day before, he might not have shown the symptoms, I suppose...or it could be the infection getting to him. Give him a moment.' There was a moment of silence, and Eldarion grimaced. 'Celebros?' he said softly. 'Move if you can hear me.' Celebros' left hand twitched, and Gwalas smiled. 'That's good,' he said softly, as if to himself. Eldarion nodded, and took Celebros' hand in his, as a reassurance to himself as much as to the boy. 'Can you talk, Celebros?' He opened his mouth and made an attempt, could not. He shook his head, then winced, looking confused and angry. 'Well, he can't talk, and that's obviously frustrating him,' Eldarion whispered under his breath so that Celebros didn't hear, 'but he seems a bit confused. I - Gwalas, I don't think he remembers.' He glanced back at the boy to find he was asleep again. Gwalas' eyes grew wider for a split second. 'That would explain the look on his face,' he muttered. 'It is probably all the abuse getting to him. That is bad. Not as bad as it could be, perhaps, but maybe you're right. Maybe he was right. Perhaps it would be best to get him away from here after all.' 'Maybe,' Eldarion said dully, 'but then I hadn't known... does he have a fever? Have you checked?' Gwalas looked surprised. 'Not this morning,' he said, 'I should have, too. This boy, especially, seems to get bad fevers very easily. Ones that have bad effects and...Remember when we all returned to the City, and he kept stumbling over what had happened directly afterward? He had had a very bad fever, you remember. From that accursed poison on the knife. When he was recovered, he only remembered very short flashes of the three days, starting at the instant he began to swordfight with Galadon. 'He didn't remember anything at all for the second day: that was when it was worst. For a time, we were more worried or as worried about him as we were about Rilhir. But the only thing he remembered clearly of the third day was late at night, when Rilhir died. And the first day, he didn't remember half of what he had seen.' During the time he was speaking, Gwalas was feeling the boy's forehead and cheeks and listening to the pattern of his breathing. 'It still amazes me that he survived that. I am certain most Men would have died. I am not of course as skilled at healing sicknesses, as Elves are never ill and I only learned most of what I did after I left the Galadil, or when healing prisoners in the Camps. They're awful, Eldarion. I can't imagine what would have happened to him there. And...Eldarion, I'm so sorry for what I said. I didn't...I would take it back if I could. It wasn't fair.' 'It's mutual,' Eldarion muttered. 'We're both worried about him, and we're just...' Gwalas shook his head worridly, drawing in his breath between his teeth. 'Celebros has a very high fever. I don't think I have felt a worse since...since Rilhir died. And then Celebros' was close.' Eldarion sighed heavily. 'Are we going to travel, then?' he looked at Celebros, his brows furrowed in worry. 'This is bad,' Gwalas said. 'Something must have happened that we do not know about. He's burning up. If he keeps falling asleep, he will not be able to drink, and he will be dehydrated. If he does not sleep, there is hardly a chance of his survival as usual, for his body will be weak. So weak he wouldn't be able to lift his hand. The weakest it is possible to get without dying, and then you must struggle to live. Which you in turn do not have the strength to do, nor the will.' Eldarion closed his eyes. 'It sounds hopeless,' he said quietly after a depressing pause. 'Are there healers in Imladris, do you know?' 'Elladan and Elrohir together might be able to do something with this situation,' Gwalas said, his eyes lighting a bit but his forehead creased in anxiety and frantic thought. 'But they might be searching still...We must think of other possibilities ...' 'Thranduil?' Eldarion suggested. 'Too far. Too treacherous a path - we'd have to go within ten miles of a Galadil outpost and the Headquarters. And we might have to wait. I do not know how many healers he has, or if he himself is one.' 'Are there Ents, here?' 'I have heard rumors, but they hide, and they grow slow. Day by day, they become more like trees until they no longer talk or move at all.' 'The Beornings?' 'Not all too friendly with strangers or those who come begging, I've heard.' 'How about...hmm. Didn't Mithrandir know an Istarii in this area that could call birds, birds that several times carried Men in times of need? Radagast the Brown?' 'I've never heard of Radagast, and never listened to many of the stories about Mithrandir. I don't know. And since I am not sure, how would we find him?' 'He lives near the southern borders of Mirkwood.' 'Well, I have heard of these great birds. Eagles. And they don't much like Men. Their lord was nearly killed by one who thought he was after sheep and shot him. Mithrandir saved him. I remember that.' 'Ah, well. Imladris, then?' 'If we can't think of anywhere else, or if no one else finds us. The other party will be long gone by now, I expect, but I do not know whether they will all go to Imladris or if Cundariel and Tasarian will go to Minas Tirith. Elladan and Elrohir, of course, had business in Imladris. They were meeting someone, I believe, so they at least will be around there, although as I said, they may be out searching. I think it will have to be Imladris.'

9 February, 59 FA

'Should we go, then? It's nearly noon, and he still hasn't woken up. I don't see the point. He isn't aware when he's awake,' Eldarion whispered. 'I suppose. It is just that it will be harder to travel.' 'He doesn't stay awake long enough when he does wake up.' 'You're right. Let's get him onto the horse. Yours or mine?' 'Mine,' Eldarion muttered. 'All right. Give me a hand here, Eldarion.' Eldarion walked over to where Gwalas stood and shook his head. 'He's eighteen today, Gwalas,' Eldarion whispered. They lifted Celebros' limp form and moved over to the horses waiting patiently by the cave's entrance. The boy was surprisingly light, and his face was hot. The fever was not getting any better, according to Gwalas. It was not hard to get him onto the horse. Gwalas' was the one taking the majority of the baggage, not that there was much of it. Just a bit of food, and now some extra water and fur, and Gwalas' herbs and healing medicines. They turned the horses and rode away.

10 February, 59 FA

Eldarion sighed and turned his head to look at Gwalas again. Once more, now not even hoping for an answer, he said, 'How soon will we stop?' This time, he finally got a reply, although it did not answer his question. 'Isn't he doing well?' the Elf said quietly, the first answer he had given all day. 'No. How long have we been riding today?' Gwalas took a moment before answering, and when he did, he did not answer the question immediately. 'What's wrong with him?' he asked quietly. 'He's not any better, for one thing, and he should be after the herbs you gave him, in addition to the fact that he isn't breathing evenly. He's pale, too. And he's still very hot. How long have we been riding today, Gwalas?' 'Three hours, as near as I could guess. I think we will stop soon, but not immediately. As soon as we find a good place.' That proved to be a harder task than it seemed. It was nearly half an hour before they found shelter under an overhanging piece of rock. It gave some shelter from the wind, but it was as cold as anywhere else. They set Celebros down carefully on the fur. Immediately, the boy convulsed slightly and he coughed - once, twice, three times. His head rolled and the side of it hit the floor, and he took in a breath. His eyes opened. Eldarion turned to look at Gwalas quickly. The Elf's face was twisted between worry and hope. 'He probably still won't be able to talk,' Gwalas said softly. 'Probably?' Eldarion muttered, but he did not get any answer. He looked back at Celebros, who looked aware but wasn't moving at all, save his right hand, which he was flexing slowly. His eyes were going in and out of focus, and there was a strange expression on his face; amazement but confusion, surprise and disbelief. He obviously did not know or remember what was going on. The young man tried to speak, but his face kept twitching and he would flinch. Biting his lip, Celebros let out a slow breath and tried again. And again. And again. Gwalas shook his head. 'Stop it, Celebros,' he said quietly. 'He's hurting himself,' the Elf added in an undertone to Eldarion, a frusterated expression on his face. The boy's face relaxed, and he sighed, then closed his eyes wearily and fell asleep again immediately. 'He's weak,' Eldarion said softly. 'Too weak. And the fever hasn't gone down at all.' 'Hasn't gone up either.' 'It shouldn't still be at the same level!' 'I know.' Gwalas sighed heavily. 'My herbs haven't done as much as they should. There is something at work here I cannot fathom. Many things could have done this, true, but I cannot do anything unless I know what it was. The Galadil seldom use any of these methods, but then, they also seldom break their prisoners' ribs, beat them, and leave them in orc- tunnels. It's against the rules.' 'What things could have done this?' 'A very serious overdose of durthond that was not diluted enough could have done it, I suppose. But that might have killed him, too, and I do not think they would have tried to kill him that way. If they wanted to, they would want to see him die. If one of the broken ribs had puntured a lung, that might have done it. But it would not be able to be pierced to seriously, or he would be dead. There are many things, Eldarion, far too many for me to name. The point is...' 'What?' 'He needs help soon, but the traveling is affecting him. I don't know how much of this he can stand. I don't know how long he would last if we kept up like this, but it will be perhaps a week if we slow, and he might not last that long if something that I have not figured out is wrong with him. I don't know what to do, Eldarion. Which is the greater threat to his health: time or traveling?' Eldarion was silent, and Gwalas stopped speaking too. 'How long will it take if we go at this rate?' 'Three...four days?' 'Four days?' Eldarion frowned. If a few hours of slow riding...and two days... put Celebros in this state...but if waiting had caused him not to wake up and to be unable to speak... Some of this echoed in his mind suddenly, resounding, loud and harsh. Not to wake up. He would get better, he would be himself again. But Eldarion knew this was wrong. Celebros would never be 'himself' again; he was changed forever. Whatever scrap of him had remained from before he met Cundariel and they had set off North, it was now gone. Stolen, taken forever. Then would he ever truly 'get better' in Eldarion's mind? He would grow used to it, and get to know it, but what would be different? Many things, he knew. Perhaps not everything. The boy muttered something under his breath. The fever was not broken yet, and it could still be rising. There were many things wrong with the boy. No one, especially not of his age, should have to go through this. He looked up and saw that Gwalas was still looking at him expectantly. 'We should go fast,' he said resignedly. 'He has been traveling a very long time, and at a fairly fast rate, and he is not yet dead from it. We saw what waiting cost him, and that just a couple days.' Gwalas nodded. 'It makes sense,' he said quietly. 'Very well: we will go fast. What route should we take? Should we travel north to one of the passes near Imladris, or should we cross here and go north?' 'We should find a pass. Traveling over mountains would not be advisable.' 'Agreed. Do you know the passes? Where they are, how long, where they come out, and such?' 'Mmm...no. That could be a problem.' 'If we meet anyone at all, they could tell us.' 'But we won't meet anyone.' It was not a question but a simple statement of fact, and Gwalas knew it was true; they would not meet anyone, or at least if they did, they would already be on the pass. Anyone else in these parts would be hostile... 'No,' Gwalas sighed... 'No, we won't.'

11 February, 59 FA

'Well, here's the pass we've been looking for, so are we going to stand and look at it or are we going to go?' 'We'll go.' Gwalas reined the horse and turned into the beginning of the pass. It was less steep, but more winding. It was without a doubt the path leading to Imladris, for it was well-made, in plain sight, and used. Eldarion moved his horse forward too, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Celebros' weight against him was still hot but not sweating. The breathing was easier by a fraction, but only a fraction. His ruffled hair, longer by far than it had been when the young man had left the City, was left uncovered and exposed to the cold. They had had nothing to cover it with. The pass, fortunately, was not very rough, if not straight. They pressed on for a while, then stopped to eat and rest a bit, then mounted and traveled again. They saw no sign that anyone had been through very recently, but it had been snowing, and that would have covered up any tracks. Celebros was weak; in the night he had not moved or stirred at all. Too weak; the muscles were overused and abused too much. It could have been the fever, too, Eldarion mused, for he had not been so weak before. Or maybe it was that it was just getting to him. Gwalas stopped and looked around a moment. The evening was coming on and they would soon have to stop to eat and rest the night. He glanced over at Eldarion and his eyes rested on Celebros. 'How is he doing?' he asked quietly. Eldarion laid his hand on the boy's forehead. 'It hasn't gone down any,' he said. 'If anything, it has gone up.' 'If it goes up any more, he will die before we can get to Imladris.' Gwalas' voice was flat and blunt, but his face...anxious. Very anxious. He was trying to keep his voice steady, of course. 'We must hurry. It should not still be going up. I don't know...' Eldarion turned his head away, not wanting to hear any more. He moved further down the pass, and Gwalas, after hesitating a moment, followed. They stopped after nightfall, for there was no good place to rest. In addition to that, Gwalas seemed to want to press on as long as they could. When they stopped, Celebros seemed to be half-awake for a minute. He opened his eyes, dim and grey, and although they did not focus, he seemd to be trying to look around, except he didn't move his head. He slowly opened his mouth, but didn't say anything, and did not even seem to try to. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes again.

12 February, 59 FA

Eldarion opened his eyes. Bright sunlight filtered over him. It was morning. There was someone moving around behind him. Gwalas. He sat up, yawning. One glance over at Celebros told him that something was not right. The boy's face was very pale, except for his cheeks which were flushed a bright red. Gwalas glanced his way. 'Good,' the Elf said breathlessly. 'I was just about to wake you. We must hurry on. Quickly, Eldarion, can you prepare the horses? We will eat on the move today. There is no time. 'We will not reach Imladris until tomorrow, or the next day if we are slowed.' They were moving again now. Celebros groaned softly in front of Eldarion. The bright light shone into the pass. Almost a canyon the pass was; deep and fairly wide in some places, and winding as it has been said before. They light was in his eyes, nearly blinding him. It would not be snowing today, and they would be able to more clearly see where they were going. They traveled quickly and steadily through the shallow snow. There was nothing and no one to be seen. But then, after about an hour. 'What is that?' Gwalas had moved up beside Eldarion's horse. He was peering ahead at soemthing before them on the path. 'Someone is there,' the Elf whispered. His voice was both uncertain and hopeful. 'Someone...can you see him?' 'Yes,' Eldarion breathed softly. 'Could you ride ahead to see who it -' He was cut off as the figure before them spotted them with a cry and a wave. Gwalas' eyes widened. 'Elladan,' he whispered. Then he rode forward quickly to meet him. Eldarion's heart rose. They had not expected to meet anyone, that was certain. He followed Gwalas, careful not to move so quickly that it hurt Celebros. 'You have him!' Eldarion heard Elladan exclaim to Gwalas. Elladan's horse whinneyed loudly as the Elves dismounted. Gwalas said something to Elladan as Eldarion reached them. In Sindarin, fast and worried. 'A day,' Elladan replied in Numenorean. He bent closer to Celebros as Eldarion dismounted and picked the boy up. His eyes widened. 'You are right,' he said to Gwalas. 'He is not in good condition. When did you find him?' 'Nine days ago, if I am correct,' Eldarion said quietly. 'He seemed all right for the first day or so, and then his temperature started to rise. It worsened from there.' 'We must hurry. Come along now! I can do nothing now. I need the help of Elrohir, and others in Imladris. Has he broken anything? What is wrong with him?' 'He was drugged fairly severly, we think,' Gwalas said. 'And he has several broken ribs, and his hand. Overall, he was abused badly and nearly killed. He is lucky to be alive.' 'He will not be for long, if we do not hurry. He is dying; that much is clear. I wish I could do something now, but I have nothing that would help him with me. We... to be honest, my brother and I did not expect to see him alive again.' 'How long will it take to get to Imladris? He's fading. He will not last much longer.' Elladan hesitated. 'My horse can ride fast; faster than yours perhaps. I do not know... but going at my fastest, I could reach Imladris by midnight.' 'I am sure our horses cannot go that quickly,' Eldarion said quietly. 'Go on then, I suppose, and we will be there by the morning.' Elladan looked troubled as they put the boy on his horse. Shaking his head, he mounted the barebacked horse quickly and whispered something to it. It leapt away with the speed of lightning. Eldarion stared after it numbly, and his horse started forward too. Gwalas' was right beside him.

13 Febraury, 59 FA

Elrohir bit his lip anxiously. Elladan would be out in a minute, but he had to know... The door opened, and through the shadows of pre-dawn he heard his brother's voice. 'I think he'll be all right. He's taken the worst beating I've seen. He's strong...' 'When will the King get here?' 'A week an a half? He's been coming for some weeks now.' 'And Eldarion and Gwalas?' 'Two hours at the most. They underestimate the speed of those horses.' 'But what about the boy? He must have caved. He must have answered their questions, look at the way they tortured him.' 'If he did - Elbereth, let him have held out - Valar help us all.'

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Eldarion's footsteps echoed down the hall. Gwalas' made no sound, but the urgency in his face was obvious. The sun was rising, shedding a dim light through one high window. They turned the last corner to find Elladan and Elrohir speaking in an undertone in Sindarin. Elladan turned when he heard the chink of Eldarion's boots on the stone approaching. 'Is he -' Eldarion began, but Elrohir cut him off. 'I think he'll be all right in time. We've healed him as best we can, and it will sustain him long enough. Your father's coming, Eldarion. He set out the very day he heard the news. He'll be here in perhaps ten days.' 'Can we see him?' Eldarion asked. 'Yes.' Elladan and his brother stepped away from the door and let them in. Eldarion's breath caught in his throat when he saw the boy. Celebros' chest was wrapped, and his head. There was hardly an inch of his skin that was not bandaged. 'I hadn't realized...' Eldarion breathed. 'It isn't just the injuries. Frostbite, too - not too bad, but enough to affect skin color. How long was he in their custody again?' Elladan's voice wavered slightly. He got no answer, and didn't ask again. The Elves glanced suddenly at Eldarion, and left him with Celebros. Eldarion stared at the boy's face, the small parts he could see. The shirt that he had been wearing was lying by the bed. It was stained with blood. Eldarion lay his hand softly on the boy's hair and closed his eyes. Celebros let out a moan, and Eldarion blinked his eyes open. The boy's head fell to the side. 'No. No.' Eldarion put one hand on either of his nephew's shoulders and shook him gently, closing his eyes again and stretching out with his mind, imagining Celebros. 'Celebros... not now...no. Please...' Celebros stirred suddenly, and Eldarion opened his eyes, drawing back. 'Wha -' Celebros moaned. His eyes were open, but shut again, though it was clear he was still awake. His eyelids fluttered, and Eldarion lay his hand on the boy's hot forehead again. It was not as bad as it had been, the fever. Celebros' eyes opened again. 'Where am I?' he moaned, barely audible, his voice a weak whisper. 'Imladris.' 'What's happened to me?' Eldarion was stunned to silence for a moment. Surely the boy remembered something? 'Don't you remember?' 'No,' the boy whispered weakly. 'You were kidnapped...' 'I don't...there's something...' 'It's all right, Celebros,' Eldarion said, his voice shaking. 'it's all right...' 'There were Elves...' Celebros whispered, a faraway, misted look on his face mixed with pain and uncertainty. His eyes squeezed shut and he bit his lip, breathing faster and pain flickering across his face. 'Elbereth...it hurt...it hurts...' 'My father's coming, Celebros, he'll be here in a few days. They're gone, it's safe.' Eldarion's eyes stung. 'I don't know what happened...I can't remember, I don't know. I don't know...' Celebros shook his head slowly. 'That's okay. Go to sleep, Celebros.' Celebros nodded and his eyes shut immediately. Eldarion looked at him a moment and then away, closing his own eyes and feeling the boy's dirty, disheveled hair under his hand. There was dry blood in it, dark and stiff. His hair had grown too; it was untidy and long. Eldarion's finger brushed a small spot where Celebros' skin was visible. There were bandages wrapped around all of his forehead and nose; it had been frostbitten. His cheeks had been slashed...Eldarion was realizing how much he had taken for granted when they had found the boy. They had been more worried about the fever and the broken bones, and they alone had appeared to be enough to kill Celebros. It was a miracle that he had lived. Elladan came in a few minutes later. 'He woke up,' Eldarion said quietly without looking up. 'He woke up?' Elrohir's voice rose sharply from near the door. 'He didn't remember anything.' 'Fever's gotten to him. It's amazing that he survived at all,' Elladan said. 'I doubt he'll be the same again. But he'll remember, more's the pity.' 'Is he going to lose anything to the frostbite?' Eldarion asked quietly. 'It's not too bad,' Elrohir said. 'It covers about half of his body, but it isn't severe, which in itself is amazing. One of the scouts was trapped in a less traveled pass for two days, and it looks like he might have to lose three of his fingers. I don't know how these things happen...' 'There's something about him...he doesn't give easily. He seems to recover a bit more than he really should. He's been affected by this more, of course, though, and I don't think he knows how to take it.' 'He'll be in pain physically for a long time after this, Eldarion.' Elladan said grimly, downcastedly. 'Broken bones never heal as they were before even if they were treated immediately, and it's been at least a month since his hand was crushed; broken in at least five places. And the ribs; I still can't believe he lived through this. Look at him. He should be dead. But it's his mental state I'd be worried about.' 'I know; he'll be hurting. He's never experienced this kind of thing before, nobody I know has. I can't imagine what they did to him. He told Gwalas and I that they threatened him that if he didn't go along with them, if he wasn't docile, they could hurt us; the people he cares for. I can't even imagine how much that tormented him, because he obviously believed it. We could hear him, muttering in his fevered dreams. It was terrible.' The elves were silent. 'Will he wake again soon, do you know?' 'He might,' Elrohir said softly, 'but if he does, there's not much of a chance it'll be for long, and if it is, he shouldn't be talked to much. Don't ask him about what he remembers, Eldarion. Reliving that will be too painful. Forgetting it all would be the only thing worse.' Their eyes all fixed on the boy. 'He needs a lot of work,' Elladan said softly. 'Where are Cundariel and Tasarian?' Eldarion asked suddenly. 'They're still out there, searching...they'll report back tonight. We sent too many searchers out to keep track of when they all left, but I think that they left three days ago tonight, and they're supposed to report back after that if they don't find anything.' 'All right.' The elves left again, and a minute after they did Gwalas walked in and sat opposite Eldarion, staring at Celebros' face. 'I can still hardly believe he's alive,' he whispered 'Not a complaint. Just...I didn't think he was going to make it. That fever; but he seems to recover from those. It's amazing, like nothing I've ever seen, but of course we elves don't get sick. I get used to it. I used to heal prisoners of minor injuries, only occasionally anything serious, and if they got sick...' He sighed heavily, closing his eyes. 'How are you holding up?' Eldarion's bleak expression turned to surprise. 'Haven't thought about it much,' he muttered. 'Haven't eaten or slept, that's for sure. I've been too worried.' Gwalas nodded. 'I know what you mean,' he said gently, 'but you had better get some sleep, something to eat, while he's asleep. I'll watch him, and Elladan and Elrohir are nearby. I've eaten, and I can go without sleep longer than you. It's in my nature.' Eldarion blinked. Suddenly he was tired, suddenly he could hardly keep his eyes open. 'All right.' 'Go down the hall, to the left. There's an unused room. We'll wake you if anything happens -' Eldarion left the room, and Gwalas looked soberly at the boy's still face.

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'We've found him,' were the first words Cundariel heard from Elladan's mouth. 'Is he -' Tension hung in her voice. 'He's alive, but he's in terrible condition. Eldarion and Gwalas found him half-dead, and for now we've done all we can. He's unconcious now, we're worried about him going severely comatose. Do you want to see him?' 'Yes,' Tasarian said, glancing at Cundariel for affirmation. She nodded. 'Where did they find him?' Cundariel asked. 'In the orc-tunnels. The Galadil had left him moments before, apparently, but they weren't worried about that then. Here.' They turned a corner, and a second one, and then were before an open door. 'Gwalas is in there...he seems to feel responsible for this.' 'Where's Eldarion?' 'Asleep, since this afternoon. He didn't sleep, appar-ently, for days. Not much, at least.' Elladan motioned toward the door. 'I have to get Elrohir; you won't have long to be there. We have to examine him.' Tasarian put his hand on his sister's shoulder. 'It's not a pretty sight; he has broken ribs and his hand, and he's frostbitten. Been cut up, and burned, and drugged, and tormented, and...it's unbelievable he survived. We thought he was going to die.' Cundariel nodded, and Tasarian's hand on her shoulder tightened. She looked at him, her face numb, as if she had been stunned but was hiding it with grimness and sadness and worry. 'Tell Gwalas I will be back in a few moments,' Elladan said, and hurried away. Tasarian still gripping her shoulder, they entered the room, lit with two torches and moonlight through the window. Gwalas looked up soberly, then looked down again at the almost unrecognizable form in the bed. 'I heard what Elladan said,' he told them hollowly. Cundariel did not answer; her eyes were fixed on the boy's face almost hypnotically, unblinking. Almost all of his skin was covored. All around his neck, and what was visible of his chest, were wrapped, and much of his face. She was unaware of Tasarian's painfully tight grasp; he too stared and was unable to look away. 'What have they done to him?' her brother breathed after a long silence. Gwalas' eyes looked dead. 'When we found him,' he said, also staring at the boy, 'he had been badly tortured, beaten, almost frozen and starved to death...drugged so severely that that, with a mixture of only one of the others, it could have killed him. When we first found him, we thought he was dead. His breath, his pulse were so weak we could hardly feel them. We couldn't at first.' Cundariel sank down next to the bedside. 'He'll be all right now, though, won't he?' Tasarian asked softly, tearing his gaze away to stare at Gwalas' haunted face. There was no answer at first. Then slowly the elf formed a reply with fumbling words. 'Everything could still go wrong before the King gets here. He could go into a more severe coma, a less temporary one, or his wounds could get infected, or the fever could return - if it does, it will almost certainly kill him. His body is too weak - it will destroy him. It's still too soon to tell...and this is so frusterating for me. I can't do anything to help him; anything at all. He doesn't remember. He woke earlier, for hardly more than one minute, and he didn't remember what had happened. Memory will return, but with it will come pain. He'll never be the same.' Cundariel's fingers brushed a place where the boy's skin was uncovored, and for a fleeting instant she thought he stirred, or something. But no. He was as still as the stars in the velvet sky.

14 February, 59 FA

Eldarion's eyes met Elrohir's solemly and steadily, and the elf shook his head. 'I don't know,' he said softly, sadly. Eldarion's eyes closed slowly. 'Any word from my father?' 'No. We haven't sent him the news yet, but I will as soon as Elladan is done with the boy.' 'What precisely happened?' 'All I know is, he was talking to Gwalas one moment, and the next he had a seizure. It sent him into a coma, as we feared. I don't know what caused it. Gwalas seems fairly shaken about it; the boy was talking lucidly and then he started to convulse.' Eldarion's jaw was set tight. 'When will my father's escort be here?' 'A week. No less, maybe a day later at the most...I haven't had as much experience as Elladan in this sort of case, so I cannot say anything for sure. This is looking bad.' 'I know,' Eldarion sighed, his eyes anguished. 'I know, but this just feels impossible. He's never completely healed from the many ordeals he's been thorugh, but we've always thought of him as...undestroyable. He always comes back changed, but he always comes back. We still don't know what happened in some of these things that happen to him, like when he first met Cundariel.' 'Elladan hasn't dealt with this before either, but he knows what he's doing.' 'I know; if there's a way to heal him, Elladan or my father can do it. Have you seen Gwalas?' 'No. Not since it happened.' 'It seems like longer than just this morning. How about Cundariel and Tasarian?' 'They were in his room, until Elladan came in. I think they went out into the gardens, down by one of the waterfalls. Cundariel seems pretty shocked. He was getting better. I don't know what happened, or how.' 'None of us do. I'm going to go find them...need to talk to them.' 'All right.'

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Tasarian watched his sister from the edge of the river. She was continuing on along its shores; Tasarian had stopped to let her be alone for a while. She hadn't asked him to, not wanting to hurt his feelings, although he understood. But he knew she needed time. There was a sound from behind him, and he turned. Eldarion was standing there, looking at Cundariel's progress down the rocky shore. 'Hello,' the Man said hollowly. Tasarian nodded. 'She's not taking this well,' he told Eldarion. 'Well?' Eldarion glanced sharply down, shaking his head. 'Who is taking this well? I don't know about you, but I'm not. Gwalas isn't.' 'That's not what I meant.' 'I know...I'm sorry, but it's so hard watching this happen, Tasarian. He's like a son to me; he hardly knows his father. I've lost Meneldil already, I don't think I can stand to lose him too.' 'You won't.' Tasarian wished he was that sure, but he didn't say it. 'Your father is on the way, and you know what they say.' 'Yes,' Eldarion muttered, 'and it's not that I doubt my father, quite the contrary, it's just...I -' 'I know,' Tasarian said, nodding again. Eldarion sank down to sit next to him on the rocks. 'What happened to Meneldil, Eldarion? If you don't mind my asking.' 'I don't mind,' Eldarion said softly. 'But to be truthful, we're not exactly sure. Aeargil was asleep, and when she woke up, he wasn't breathing.' His voice almost broke, but he managed to steady it. 'We don't know what it was. It was so sudden; he was in perfect health and then - well, we were playing with him that morning and everything was fine and then Aeargil went to sleep and I went onto the tower, and when I came back everyone was panicked. I think I asked someone, a servant, and she just whispered, "The baby," and hurried away. I don't remember much about... about what happened or...' Tasarian, who had been watching him and listening with a look of pity and sadness, nodded. 'That's all right,' he said, and Eldarion turned his face away so that the elf wouldn't see the brightness of his eyes.

21 February, 59 FA

'Nothing has changed,' Elladan told King Elessar, before even the proper honors that ought to be paid to a king at a meeting. King Elessar didn't seem to notice. 'Nothing.' 'Very well.' His voice was flat and sober. 'Where are Eldarion and Gwalas? I will need to speak to them about their first assesment of his situation before trying to treat him further.' 'Their first assesment,' Elrohir said, biting off the words sharply, 'was that the boy was dead.' King Elessar's face was drawn and pale, and at this statement he looked shocked and horrified, and closed his eyes momentarily. 'Where are they?' 'With Celebros. Eldarion stays there unless we tell him to go sleep, or eat. Gwalas is there a deal of the time, but not constantly. Cundariel and Tasarian are by the river - they don't know you're here yet. I sent someone to tell them.' 'All right - show me to them.'

+++++

'We came up to him,' Gwalas said quietly, 'We thought he was dead; Eldarion checked for breath and found none, but he had a pulse, very weak. He must have been breathing very faintly. He was very cold, there were slashes all over his body, a thin cut on his neck, blood on his scalp. His hand is broken, and two or three ribs. There is a very unnatural burn on the back of his neck, as if it was branded there by magic. We moved him, and when he woke he was lucid occasionally. Then the fever burned his mind as his neck was burned, and he became very weak.' 'All right,' King Elessar said, nodding, and took a deep breath. 'If you would leave us, Gwalas.' Gwalas nodded and strode out of the room, glancing back at the still form of Celebros and the equally inert Eldarion, who had not spoken a word to his father since his arrival. 'Eldarion,' King Elessar said softly, a hand on his son's shoulder. Eldarion flinched away at the contact, and his father's eyes narrowed. Was it hurt in King Elessar's eyes? Pity? 'I'm sorry,' Eldarion said softly, 'I'm sorry.' He met his father's eyes very unwillingly, and the King had a sudden urge to move away. His face was blank, dead, and the only shred of emotion was terrible sadness in his eyes. 'Eldarion, was he drugged?' 'Yes. Badly. Starved, drugged, frozen, beaten.' Surprise flickered over Eldarion's face as his father swore quietly. 'I wish I knew how much he told them. We're in a difficult situation.' Eldarion nodded shortly, and turned his gaze back to Celebros, sitting stiffly. He didn't watch his father taking out various herbs that Elrond's sons had given him. There were two bowls of steaming water that had also been brought in, and Eldarion did look up as King Elessar put the some of the herbs into one. The normal freshness of athelas did sweep over them, and color appeared in their faces, but along with it was a curious smell, like rain and roses and fresh earth, like and yet unlike the kingsfoil. With the second there was no scent and no freshness, and Eldarion watched his father tip it down Celebros' throat and help the comatose young man swallow. Celebros coughed suddenly, but did not wake. Eldarion's eyes came to life slightly more. 'Call him.' Eldarion looked at his father and obeyed the request - the order. 'Celebros...wake up.' Celebros stirred, and coughed again. His eyelids fluttered open, and Eldarion concealed a gasp. His eyes did not focus. He couldn't see. 'No,' the boy moaned, trembling, 'not again.' 'What have they done to him?' Eldarion gasped very quietly. 'Celebros...' Celebros gasped. 'Eldarion?' His hand groped out and met Eldarion's hand. His uncle almost shuddered at the coldness of it. Breathing hard, Celebros pressed Eldarion's hand to his own cheek. With a sigh of relief King Elessar took Celebros' other hand. 'King Elessar?' 'We're here, Celebros,' Eldarion whispered. 'I can't see,' the boy whispered. 'It's only temporary,' King Elessar assured him. 'It will last a few days.' 'I thought it was all a dream,' Celebros muttered, 'I was so afraid it was all a dream.' 'It's all right,' King Elessar said. 'Celebros, I'm sorry, but I need to know what they asked. Not what you said, but the questions. We can talk about other things later, after you've rested more, but I need to know what they asked.' 'How many soldiers. Our allies. How much supplies. How advanced technology. And what people looked like.' He sighed, and weakly lifted his hand to touch the back of his bandaged neck. When he had touched it his arm went limp and fell atop the coverlet, and he winced hard. Then, with a moan, he fell asleep again.

+++++

'We are done for,' Eldarion moaned. 'Look at the state of him. He must have told them everything down to the rations our horses eat.' 'Have patience. We will find out in time.' 'How long will it take him to recover his sight?' 'Four days, perhaps.' 'Maybe whatever he told them warded them off. Maybe they left him because they had underestimated us.' His father barked a laugh, a very uncharacteristic and forced one. 'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'I may never have met them, but they found out what they needed. They would have killed him if they couldn't find anything out. I wish I knew why they didn't.' 'Father, if we had found him an hour later he would have been dead. It's a miracle he made it here. He should be dead, by all rights.' The king was silent for a while. Then he looked up again at Eldarion. 'Why didn't you just ask?' he whispered. There was something in his voice. Eldarion couldn't quite place it. Pain? 'What?' 'Why didn't you ask us? We would have let you go. We wouldn't have tried to hold you back. Elbereth, no. I don't understand it. It's tearing my soul apart. You didn't think we'd let you? You didn't want to admit it to us, that you were hurting, that you needed to leave? It hurt your mother. She cried, the night you left, for hours, because she thought you were leaving forever, that you didn't trust us. She might have even thought you blamed us. I don't know.' Eldarion was taken aback. He hadn't thought, since leaving the City...he'd virtually forgotten the way he slipped away... he had never once wondered how it must have hurt his parents, what it must have seemed like to them. 'I'm sorry,' he said, looking back at his father. 'I'm sorry. It happened so fast, and Aeargil took it so hard, and we couldn't think, I couldn't stand it, it was driving me mad...' The king's face was masked by his hand, but his shoulders were quivering as he remembered. 'It's all right,' King Elessar said quietly, shaking his head, 'I'm sorry I brought it up. You've been through enough. Too much. That was unfair. Of course you couldn't think. Who could? 'But you're angry, my son. You're angry at someone here, someone near. I don't know whether, it's me, or yourself, or Gwalas, or even Celebros, but -' Celebros woke suddenly with a gasp, as if he had been called again when his name was spoken. Eldarion's hand was instantly on his shoulder, steadying him, speaking to him in a soft voice, calming him. Celebros let out his breath slowly and let Eldarion run his hand through his hair gingerly. 'I didn't tell them anything,' he whispered suddenly and clutched Eldarion's hand, stilling it. Eldarion looked at him, then at his father, who was looking grim. 'I didn't tell them anything about the city, about our forces. I told him what people looked like, but I didn't tell him anything about the city. Nothing!' 'Of course,' said Eldarion slowly, cooly. 'Of course.' 'You don't believe me?' Celebros accused, sucking in a breath as if he'd been punched. 'You don't. Do you? Truthfully. Honestly. You don't? You think I'm lying? You don't believe that what I'm saying is true?' 'No,' said Eldarion firmly. 'You're not well. You've just woken up from a nightmare. You want to deny that you did anything, naturally. Elbereth, I would too. That's all right. We don't blame you for whatever you told them. But right now? You're not lucid, Celebros.' He realized after he stopped that he'd been a bit brutally honest, which might not have been the best strategy. His father's face was impassive. 'Ask me a question,' Celebros said, almost pleadingly. 'Ask me a question that can help you determine whether I'm lucid.' 'What are you thinking?' Eldarion asked softly. 'Do you want me to be bluntly honest, or to lie to make you feel better?' His voice was abruptly bitter and harsh. 'No, never mind. I'll be honest. I'm shattered, because you think that I would betray you. You don't believe that I would endure years of torture and a slow and painful death to save you. You think I'm not sane. You don't believe me, you question my credibility, after what I've gone through to save you.' Well, Eldarion thought dazedly. That was even more brutally honest than my answer. Celebros still had a hold on his wrist, which was frozen in place. He seemed to realize how bitter his response had been, and released Eldarion's hand. Eldarion's father, looking also fairly stunned by the completely lucid answer, nodded at him. 'You didn't tell them anything about the City?' Celebros tried to shake his head and winced hard, coughed, took a gasping breath, and regained his voice. 'Nothing,' he whispered, 'Nothing at all,' before falling into blackness. +++++

Tasarian blinked, trying to drive away the feeling he got in his throat when he stared at Celebros' still form. Better, the king had said. He would get better. Tasarian thought back to the day the boy had rescued him and his sister from Galadon's prison. Quiet, he had been. That was the way he had been before. But the fight, the fight to save his life, his sister's life, all their lives, had changed him, just as this would change him. He would still be quiet. He would be different. His sister shivered as if a blast of icy air had enveloped her. He came from behind her and wrapped his arms around her tight in a comforting hug. A tear fell on his skin. 'He'll be all right,' he whisered to Cundariel. 'He'll be fine.' 'I just keep thinking about the look on Eldarion's face,' she whispered, reaching up and holding his arms, 'the look when he left here...the king said Celebros was blind.' 'And then he said that his vision would return fully in a week or less.' 'But he can't see, he can't see us. He's lucid, they said, but he's extremely weak and he can't see. He's very tired. They kept him on the durthond frequently enough that he wants it, he's withdrawn from it, although he doesn't seem to realize it. He's healing slowly. But there are some things that can't heal.' She looked around at her younger brother, up at him. He was taller than her now. 'There are some things that will never head.' 'I know,' Tasarian said quietly, loosing his grip from her and walking around to the other side of the bed. He leaned against the side, staring at the boy who had saved him, and looked up again. 'But Celebros is different. Celebros is special.' He brushed the boy's cheek with his finger. 'I know,' she sighed. 'I'm just afraid for him. He can never live a normal life now.' Tasarian laughed sharply. 'Heirs of the kings seldom do,' he said quietly.

24 February, 59 FA

Celebros listened to Eldarion's voice telling him all sorts of things. All about how Imladris looked, how beautiful it was. He could hear the waterfalls in the backround. His face hardened, tensed, as Eldarion's voice melded into the backround. 'Birds and trees and animals all around, it's really - Celebros? What's wrong?' 'I had been almost hoping it had all been a dream, at first,' he whispered musingly. 'What? Elbereth, Celebros! Why?' Celebros turned his head, his blank, unseeing eyes toward Eldarion. 'Meneldil,' he whispered, his face contorted with pain. 'I already expected to die, so it wouldn't have hurt me as much. I wanted you all to live. All of you. He didn't deserve it. I'm sorry.' 'You couldn't have changed it. You don't deserve death, Celebros, and as much as I wish we could change things like that, we can't, and we both have to learn to accept that.' 'I wish I could see you,' Celebros whispered, and a tear rolled across his face. 'I wish I could see you, and King Elessar, and Gwalas and everyone. Tasarian. Cundariel.' 'Your sight should return any time now.' 'I...' He was crying now, silently. 'I'm forgetting things. I can't remember what anyone looks like clearly. It's driving me mad. I can remember Snaga,' he gave a watery smile, 'and Pernathos, and your mother, but I can't remember you, or Gwalas, or Cundariel, Tasarian, or your father...I hate it!' he cried out in despair. 'I hate it!' There was a sound from the doorway, and Eldarion turned around. Gwalas was there, using the door frame as support. His eyes were hollow, with dark circles underneath them - how long had it been since he slept, Eldarion wondered. Elves could go a long time sleepless without tiring at all. Gwalas looked exhausted. 'Gwalas?' Celebros asked, and Eldarion turned back to him. How could he know? 'Yes, my boy,' Gwalas said, his voice a bit faint. 'How did you know?' Eldarion asked blandly. Celebros shrugged. 'I knew there was someone there, because I heard you turn around. And I didn't hear them come, and neither of you spoke to each other.' Gwalas, looking slightly startled, shrugged at Eldarion's raised eyebrows. 'Just because I can't see, it doesn't mean I can't sense anything,' Celebros said quietly. 'How did you know I wasn't turning to look a...a bird?' 'How would you know a bird was there without looking? And anyway, there's birds on the other side.' 'Your logic, as usual, is impenetrable,' Gwalas sighed. 'How are you feeling?' 'I feel...better, I don't know. Bit tired, and my ribs ache.' 'We'd be worried if they didn't.' Celebros nodded and shuddered. 'Eldir kicks pretty hard.' 'The filthy bastard,' Eldarion added angrily. 'Looks like that's about all he does.' Celebros shook his head wearily. 'He does more than kick,' he whispered, and Eldarion's expression softened. 'We're just glad you're here,' Gwalas whispered. 'Celebros, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' 'What?' Celebros' face twisted in genuine confusion. Gwalas sighed. 'I didn't put on a guard. I should have put on a guard. It's my fault. I'm sorry.' Celebros laughed, to Eldarion's and Gwalas' surprise. It ended abruptly, and with a wince, but it hadn't been harsh or forced. 'Listen to me, my friend,' Celebros said quietly, now sober, 'if there had been a guard, then the guard would have been killed, along with all of you. There were too many of them, and they were too lethal. Honestly, Gwalas, truthfully. I'm glad you didn't put on a guard, because all that would have caused would be more suffering. It's not your fault. It was better this way.' Gwalas looked doubtful, and Eldarion was momentarily glad that Celebros couldn't see the elf shaking his head, disag-reeing. Gwalas left, and Celebros waved his hand weakly as he did so. Eldarion shook his head in amazement at the skills the boy had picked up. He truly was amazing. Tasarian looked in almost immediately after. 'Hello, Celebros. Eldarion. How are you?' Celebros shrugged. 'Just a bit tired. Is Cundariel around?' Tasarian shook his head, and then laughed silently to himself. 'No. She's out with Elrohir. They're working with some of the injured horses.' The boy nodded, and turned his head toward the outside. 'I wish I could see it,' he said, smiling. 'It sound so beautiful here; the waterfalls and the river.' 'It won't be long now,' Eldarion sighed. 'Father said it wouldn't be long.' 'Tomorrow, maybe. I know.' 'Celebros,' Tasarian said, a bit uneasily, 'I regret not continuing to follow you. We returned to here, to look for help, but we might have found you.' 'They knew you were following,' Celebros said firmly. 'I got the idea they were about to send a group of assassins back to you when you left.' 'They knew?' the Elf breathed. 'I want to get my bow aimed toward that...that...' 'Bastard,' Eldarion supplied, 'Dirty, filthy, destructive, evil bastard.' Tasarian's eyes twinkled, partly in amusement, but Eldarion saw the hatred that he held at bay. 'I want to kill him.' Eldarion nodded, but Celebros smiled grimly and shook his head. 'I think I'm entitled to that privilege,' he murmered, and neither of the others could disagree. After Tasarian left, Celebros let out a heavy sigh. 'I wish I didn't have to keep reassuring people,' he groaned. 'Oh well.' 'We all to some degree or another feel responsible, Cele-bros. Even my father. He thinks it's his fault because he was the one who decided you had to come here. And everyone in your escort feels guilty for not putting up a guard, no matter what they say. And I feel guilty for not being in the escort in the first place.' Celebros shook his head. There was silence between them a moment, then Celebros asked, 'Does he know who it was? In the City?' 'A Galadil spy. We didn't catch him, but it was apparently his plan to kill you there, or bring you to Eldir, or some-thing.' 'It was so carefully thought out,' Celebros whispered. 'I think now that the first time they caught me they had already wanted me. They wouldn't go to that much trouble to catch a tresspasser.' Eldarion made a sharp, indistinct sound. Celebros sighed. 'And I feel strange,' he continued. 'Like I need something. Like I'm looking for something. Like...I don't know. It's strange.' 'Durthond,' the older man said gently. 'It's addictive.' Celebros shuddered again, and Eldarion grimaced. 'Did he say how many they have?' 'Seven thousand four hundred fifty.' 'What?! They had to be bluffing.' 'I don't know,' Celebros said thoughtfully. 'They've been gathering people for a long time. But not all of them are loyal.' 'Yes, Celebros, I have met Gwalas.' 'No, but a lot of them. They're just scared to leave. Eldir is, I think, a bit mad. He was talking to another elf, I overheard their conversation, and if I didn't know better I would have said that Eldir had something personal against me. It was as if I had killed his mother or something, it was eerie.' 'Well,' Eldarion said, 'I don't know whether to hope he is, because that could mean he was just having fits and that sort of thing, or that he's sane, because if he is sane he might see sense, but if he's already evil enough to do this, then he's pretty hopelessly addicted to people's pain.' 'Hope that he's mad,' Celebros sighed, 'because a madman is more easily fooled. He doesn't see simple plans.' Eldarion didn't answer. Celebros fell asleep a few minutes later, and Eldarion stayed. He thought about what must have happened to Celebros over the last two months, and wondered why it had to be that boy. He turned around. His father was in the doorway, silent and still as stone, his eyes the only thing moving at all. A smile twitched at the edges of the King's mouth, but did not emerge onto his face fully. 'How is he?' he asked quietly. 'He's hurting,' Eldarion said, not meeting his father's eyes. 'He's hurting so badly...he's noticed the durthond withdrawl symptoms. And he's suffering from not being able to see...he said he's forgetting things, how people look. What the...what Eldir did to him...he should be dead. There's no way someone could survive what he's been through, much less without telling what they wanted to know. Why did it have to be him? Why not someone else? They could have as easily threatened me, had me sent out of the City, taken me - Elbereth knows I know more about the City than he does -' 'But that isn't why they took him,' King Elessar said softly, 'that's just their excuse. It's a cover-up. They wanted him for something else. There was another reason.' 'Then what? Why? If they wanted him for ransom...they could have gotten a lot more for me than they could for him...' 'Maybe they thought you would be more likely to escape.' The King didn't like to imagine the same things happening to Eldarion as had happened to Celebros, it was bad enough to see it firsthand. 'He said it wasn't anyone's fault,' Eldarion said. 'He's so blasted noble. He makes sure no one feels at fault. How can he do that? How can he think about something like that, now?' 'You know who he is,' his father said simply, and for a moment Eldarion felt almost a surge of anger at the King. 'Yes,' Eldarion sighed. 'I just wish it wasn't him.' King Elessar pur a hand on his son's shoulder. 'So do I,' he said softly, and Eldarion leaned his head onto his father's hand.

2 March, 59 FA

Celebros dangled his legs over the edge of the bank, his bare feet dipping into the water of the river. His eyes stared blankly at nothing. Eldarion watched him carefully. It was the first time Celebros had been out since then, and he was much quieter than usual. He hadn't spoken to Eldarion since they had reached the waterside. It pained him to see Celebros' very obvious limp, and his wince, and his dependancy on his uncle so that he wouldn't trip and fall on something he could not see. 'Celebros,' Eldarion said at last, and Celebros turned his head so that his blank eyes faced the speaker, 'what are you thinking about?' Celebros seemed to debate with himself a moment, then turned his head back straight. 'Will I really regain my sight?' he asked finally. Eldarion was quite taken aback. 'Yes - of course - you don't think that -' he faltered. Celebros was silent. 'I don't remember what it's like to see,' he said finally. 'I took it for granted. I remember what a color is. I remember lots of things. But this blackness is unbearable. He said a week. He said it. If I ever do see again, I'll adjust. And if I don't...well, I'll have to adjust to that too. But what if he miscalculated?' 'He didn't miscalculate,' Eldarion reassured him, 'you know him. Has he ever miscalculated something like this?' 'There has to be a first time,' Celebros whispered, so quiet Eldarion could hardly hear it. Eldarion didn't pursue the subject. 'Are you still feeling the withdrawl?' he asked. 'How could I not? I want it. I want it. If you set it in front of me, I would drink it. I wouldn't be able to help it.' 'You've got to fight it.' 'How? How can I fight what I want? I need it. I can't fight it. I don't even think I want to fight it.' 'You're cold. Do you want to go back in? Do you want a blanket?' Celebros shook his head. 'I'm always cold. I like it out here. Anyway, I'm only partly cold. My neck and chest are warm.' He touched the bandages. 'And my hand. But the rest is always cold; always.' His voice was strange, and it made Eldarion stare. Calm, smooth. Eldarion shivered himself from a mixture of things. 'I'd rather you were all cold,' he muttered. Celebros smiled and shook his head. 'Everyone does,' he said, 'but wishing for it doesn't help. I'm sorry, but it doesn't. It's happened. It won't change. But my body will heal.' Eldarion didn't want to say anything to the contrary, so he settled for silence. After a moment of this, Celebros spoke again. 'Why did they want me so bad?' 'We don't know,' Eldarion said. 'I asked my father the same question. Gwalas doesn't know.' Celebros changed the subject. 'What will happen to Gwalas if they ever find him?' 'I expect he'd be killed.' Eldarion sighed. 'Is there a point to this?' 'No,' Celebros said emotionlessly. There was another quiet, and then Eldarion brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them. 'Celebros, what did they do to the back of your neck?' 'Burned it.' 'But how? I'm sorry, but my father is worried about it. It isn't a natural burn. It wasn't done with fire.' 'I don't know,' Celebros said. Eldarion couldn't tell whether it was a truth or a lie, because the only way to tell with Celebros was to read the emotion in his eyes.

5 March, 59 FA

King Elessar smiled at his son. 'I did miscalculate, yes,' he said quietly. 'Obviously. It was worse than I thought, and the combination of the withdrawl and the drugs I gave him was more potent than I thought. But it should be any time now. Today, even. His sight will be dim at first, misty. But it should all return.' 'I don't think he believes it anymore,' Eldarion sighed. 'I wasn't sure for a while whether I did. He doesn't think it's ever going to return.' 'It will,' his father said reassuringly. 'Is he awake yet?' 'No,' Gwalas answered, coming out of Celebros' room. 'He will be soon. He stayed up late last night. I think he might have been writing something. I came in, and he was murmering something to himself about the moon. It's eerie, the way he can tell who you are without seeing you.' Eldarion smiled. 'I find it rather calming. It's always awkward to have to say, "It's me; Eldarion; how are you?" And you know that he still knows us and everything underneath...' 'But he always says he's all right. Well, not exactly. He'll say he's a bit cold, but that's all right; it doesn't bother him. Or that his chest aches, but then what else could we expect. And he'll laugh. It's not a reassuring laugh.' Gwalas was unsettled. 'I agree about the laugh,' Eldarion said. 'And if you ask him something, his voice is so...cold. Impassive. Frozen.' 'I'd noticed,' Gwalas sighed. 'He's not thinking about what's happening now as much. I can't blame him. Did he tell you about...he said he's forgetting things, what people look like. I wish he would get his sight back soon. He seems to be giving up.' Eldarion stood suddenly. 'I'm - going in.' His voice was suddenly strangled and forced. He walked into Celebros' room and sat down slowly and quietly. He wasn't sure whether he wasn't quiet enough or he was, but Celebros woke. He didn't open his eyes. 'Eldarion?' he said softly, and turned his head away. 'Yes.' Celebros gasped, and cried out suddenly. He turned his head back toward Eldarion, who echoed the gasp. He had opened his eyes. They were clear and focused slowly. But they focused. 'I - can -' he gasped, and laughed aloud. 'I -' There was a sound from behind Eldarion; a quick exhalation, almost a laugh. Celebros' eyes moved to the King Elessar leaning against the doorframe and Gwalas coming in behind him and laughed again, delighted. 'I can see,' the young man breathed. 'It isn't very clear -' 'It will be in a few days,' Eldarion's father said, smiling. 'Only a few days. I promise, this time.' 'I can see.'

7 May, 59 FA

Celebros looked up as someone pounded on the door. He stood up and walked with his half-limp over to it apprehensively. He waited a moment before opening it. 'Oh,' Celebros sighed with relief, 'Eldarion. I thought it was my mother again. You know, she's come by about once every three hours in the past three days since we've gotten back?' 'I'll have a word with her,' Eldarion grinned. 'Better you than me,' Celebros muttered. 'Want to come in?' 'Sure,' Eldarion shrugged. He picked up the book Celebros had been reading. 'Immortal Dagger: Lost Tales?' 'Ever read it?' 'No. Haven't even heard of it.' 'I'm not very surprised,' Celebros said. 'It had about an inch of dust covering it when I found it. In the Great Library, you know. Probably hadn't been touched since Ecthelion the First was around.' 'What's it about?' 'I can't exactly tell yet,' Celebros said with a smile. 'Part One is in some sort of runes. Very old. Maybe some form of Quenya. I'm trying to decode it. I've only got a few words so far. They look very interesting. I don't suppose I'll ever really finish it; Part Two is in the Black Speech. Elbereth knows why. Maybe it's secret or something. And Part Three is Sindarin, but it's absolute gibberish.' To prove his point, he opened to the back. Cross-eyed, he tried to read the first sentence on the page. '"And they said unto him, 'Go now, and be grateful we didn't turn you into a llama.' And he went into the city and found there many beasts of burden, but no llamas."' 'Let me see that. That can't be right.' Eldarion pulled to book away and stared at it. 'Elbereth! You're right! But it's not llama, it's goat, or something. It must be some sort of code.' 'Oh well. I can always try.' 'Celebros?' Eldarion said after a long silence, looking at his nephew and noticing how different he seemed. It wasn't just the scars, either, although that did make a difference. The boy looked up. 'Yeah?' 'How did you get the burn? On your neck?' 'He - asked me about the city. I wouldn't tell him. I couldn't. Then he grabbed me, and dragged me onto a - sort of table. And he tied me there. There was this little black rod. It must have been infused with some fire magic or something. He put it on the back of my neck...it was freezing cold at first, and then it got - it got hot.' Eldarion was quiet. Celebros could see the shock and surprise on his face. The young man shook his head. 'There could have been worse things,' he said quietly. 'I was so afraid he was going to burn my face, or my arms or hands - but he didn't. The verbal play, the game he had in motion...that was much worse. Knowing how weak I was.' Eldarion looked even more startled. 'Weak,' he repeated in a flat voice. He strode across the room and pulled Celebros into a fierce hug. Celebros returned it unhesitatingly. Eldarion held him out to arm's length. 'Elbereth, you're almost taller than I am,' he said softly. 'Celebros, if there is one thing that you are not - one thing! - it's weak. If you were weak, you would have been dead months ago, and you would have betrayed us all very quickly. You're not weak. You're stronger than I am.' 'Thanks, Eldarion,' Celebros whispered. Then he opened the book and continued his attempts to translate Part One. Outside, the birds sang in the afternoon breeze, and the sun sucked darkness from the world.